War Pains
by BrowncoatGrl
Summary: Angel has been captured by the First. All It needs is time. But Angel Investigations will go to Hell and back to save their leader. Following Hope's lead, everything in the world is on the line. And Hope won't give up. But she might give in.
1. Chapter 1

**War Pains**

**Chapter 1**

It looked just like him. It had his smile, his eyes, his mannerisms. But he knew it _wasn't_ him. It could not be him. And he tried to tell himself that it was just that—It. It was what It was and no matter what form It took, It would be only that and nothing more.

Angel didn't dare try to speak for the pain in his chest. It was a numbing pain, an endless pain. For a moment he couldn't remember ever feeling so much pain. The pain seeped from every inch of his sore and bruised body, sending waves of anguish to his tired and numb mind. He kept his eyes on the figure next to him as he felt the chains pull his arms and legs farther, tauter, than they were ever meant to be.

Doyle stood there, a smile of sadistic pleasure on his face, "Why even bot'er, man? You know t'ere's only one way out of t'is."

* * *

Hope led the way into the Hyperion, knowing she'd given Angel the space he needed. Entertaining the others with her game systems, she'd finally given up and decided to come back. The first one into the lobby, she looked into his office. He wasn't there.

"Where's Angel?" Gunn asked, following Hope's gaze.

Fred smiled, fixing a loose strand of hair in her reflection via the weapons' cabinet doors. She shook her head, "He's probably up in his room."

Hope felt her skin go cold. She couldn't feel him. Anywhere. He wasn't there.

"No."

She ran up the stairs to the balcony, on to the next flight of stairs. She didn't care the others couldn't keep up. She just wanted to find him, no matter what her gut told her. She came to his door. It was locked.

"Angel?"

No answer.

"Angel!"

When not hearing a bit of noise from the other side, she extended her hand and a blast of pure energy smashed through the door. She ran through before the smoke cleared, the others coming up in time to see the feat.

She stopped.

Bringers littered the floor. Blood was everywhere.

Fred and Wesley came up beside her. Gunn was a moment later, an axe in tow. Lorne wasn't too far behind.

"Oh my god," Fred whispered.

"They got him," Hope said under breath.

"What?"

Hope knew the only answer to that question. She felt her heart sink for Its presence hadn't been detectable to her at all. But now that she was looking for It, she felt It. The power, crude and unbridled, seemed to overwhelm her and she inhaled deeply to steel herself against the onslaught of anger, hatred and agony. The air seemed to ground her, keeping her mind intact while It reached to every inch of her and teased her, taunted her with Its power.

"Hope?" Fred asked tentatively.

Hope realized with a start that she knew the answer was real, "The First. It has him."

* * *

Angel grit his teeth in pain as Doyle walked around him, eyeing his half-naked and stretched figure. Angel could make out the complete lack of feeling in his hands and feet; they were tied tightly with chains and he swore his flesh would simply slip away from his arms and legs if they were pulled much harder. He'd lost all sensitivity in them almost an hour ago and now he knew they existed by sight alone.

"Seriously, t'ough," the half-Brachen, half-human visage seemed intent; his voice was thick with an Irish accent, "why even bot'er to fight all this? You know it'll be a long while before the cavalry comes for you and—if they make it trough this labyrint' o'fun—what makes you t'ink they can actually save you, eh? You t'ink Hope has much of a chance down here? No way, buddy. She's as mortal as the rest of them down here and she knows it right well, too. You t'ink she's gonna risk her important life and role to come get your sorry ass? She's got better people—actual people—to save, you know."

Angel just eyed the visage, anger keeping him conscious. He knew that he shouldn't believe anything the fake Doyle told him, but it stung deep knowing that there was still some truth, albeit a small amount, in his monologue.

Doyle looked off to the side and smiled, giving an unspoken command to those behind Angel. He yelped in surprise as a fresh bout of pain tore though his limbs while the servants behind him tightened the chains, pulling him nearly apart. He panted hard, the unneeded air passing for comfort. His head lolled to one side and came to rest against his stretched left arm. Just the slightest pressure caused him all the more agony and he swore he would crush his own jaws from clenching them. Yet he buried his face into his shoulder and arm, trying to manage the pain. And, he realized, it wasn't helping him manage any better.

He tried to tense, feeling that his joints would be dislocated at any moment. He could feel the strain they were each carrying. Some part of him wanted to smile in irony; he was, in this day of space-age weapons, going to be drawn and quartered. And he could just imagine the sight it would be. Muscles ripping and shredding, bones snapping and flesh fraying. Oh, yes. A beautiful thought, indeed.

He fell face forward on the gravel floor, suddenly aware that he was regaining feeling in his extremities. He was gaining feeling, but not control—they'd been stretched too far, too long. He just laid there, the pebbles imprinting on his sweating face, hoping he would be able to muster some motion if left alone.

Doyle kneeled next to him, chuckling, "You know, Angel, she isn't worth it. I mean, think 'bout it. What can she give you and what can you give her? Not'ing," he paused, his voice dripping with cocky bravado.

Angel missed the command, but he knew the visage had given one; the chains pulled him upwards again, reawakening the pain that had just started to fade. He was forced to sit up straight while kneeling, his back sore and not up to the task. Angel let his wrists carry his weight—they were already becoming numb again.

"And do you t'ink she'll be yours forever? She's just going t'rough a phase. Now, the only reason I'm being so trut'ful is that I don't wanna see my buddy get hurt by another gal."

Angel opened his eyes to look the bastard right in Its fake eyes, "Go to Hell," he managed by a whisper, his throat dry and his voice harsh.

Doyle laughed and his shape gave way to another, more familiar and terribly unsettling persona—himself. The phantom Angel stood and looked down at Its double, sneering, as Angelus would've, "Been there, done that."

* * *

Hope walked from her room, the golden glow of her master's powers still visible as she opened the door only to vanish afterwards. Fred watched her in jointed sympathy. Hope, she had come to understand and realize, was as hard and calloused as individuals came. She had seen it all, lived it all, and done it all. But, when it came to those closest to her, the ones she cared about—such as Angel—she was fresh and naive in pain and anger. The goddess floated across the atrium, her posture unaffected by the obviously troubling news the Old One had given to her upon request.

"So, what do we do now?"

"I'm not sure."

They all looked at her in shock.

"Surely you have some sort of plan."

"Yeah, you all with the heavenly know-how."

"I've never…I'm not here to lead. I'm here to advise. One of you would be better off coming up with some sort of plan. I'm afraid I can't think."

Fred walked up to, "What can we do without you?"

Hope eyed her, "I don't know."

"Given the circumstances, you're fit for the job, Hope. You know the First. You know Angel. You're the only one here who has the connections we need to get this job done."

"Angel makes decisions, not me."

"Angel ain't here. And every minute you complain is a minute he ain't got."

Hope straightened and nodded once, "Okay. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Wesley eyed her as she started for the door, "Where are you going?"

"To find out where Angel is."

* * *

"Poor Angel. Poor, poor Angel. That's all I _ever_ get to hear. How strong you are for living with me inside you. For dealing with what _I_ did. So boring," Angelus eyed Angel.

Angel tried to eye his tormentor, "If your so bored, why not come on out, huh?" he taunted. At the First's disappointed look, he smiled, "Oh, that's right. You're not Angelus. _I_ control him! You have no say in it," he took some pride in that fact.

"Wrong again, buddy-o," Angelus chuckled, "You may think that. But, if Hope wasn't around, we both know I would be the winner. I would have control of this world…and you would be leading the army," he smiled, moving closer and getting right into Angel's face.

* * *

Hope walked into the misty surroundings of the Record Keeper. She could hear the shuffling of tiny feet and saw the mist part for the divine creature. It eyed her sympathetically.

"You are came."

"Yes. I know it's short notice, but I need your knowledge."

"About the vampire."

"Yes."

"He was be in a terrible cave."

"Can you tell me where?"

"The Hellmouth holding him."

"Which one?"

"It breathed fire and flow blood."

Hope's face paled and she nodded, "La Paz."

* * *

Wesley looked at the others. They were waiting, just like him. Although he would gladly go out and fight whatever odds there were, he had no idea where to look. They didn't know where Angel had been taken. Hope was the only chance they had to get to him.

"I wonder why he did that," Gunn said aloud.

"What?" Fred asked.

"Left the apartment. He just took off."

"Hope said he needed to get something."

"It didn't look like he was getting anything. Looked like he stormed out."

"You think something happened?"

Wesley kept his mouth shut. Although he didn't know why Angel had left the penthouse so abruptly, he knew things would be strained if he were here with Hope. His feelings for her were complex and Wesley could only imagine what he'd been thinking…both before and after. Having crossed that line, things were bound to change. But the others didn't know. Lorne, perhaps, for his connection to the Powers. But Fred and Gunn…they were still in the dark.

The front doors opened and Hope walked in. She ignored all of them and cut across the atrium to the weapons cabinet. She looked inside for a moment before opening the doors.

"I'll be back in a few days."

"We're coming with you," Wesley interjected, noticing Hope's decisive use of a single reference point.

"No."

"He's our boss...and our friend. He's our responsibility, too," Fred argued, not entirely sure it was smart to argue with Hope at this point but caring too much about Angel to not take a chance.

"You told me to take charge and I'm doing it. Listen to me when I say no and trust you'll be safer here."

"Explain safer," Gunn demanded.

Hope sighed, "There is a balance to this world. As long as the scales tip in my favor, the world is safe. The moment those scales turn to the First, It and I switch. It becomes material, powerful. I become a ghost. It could still pull it off. Summoning Angelus wouldn't tip the scales, but it'd be pretty damn close and, if anything else happens…" Hope trailed off.

"You'd become powerless," Wesley concluded.

"If that happens when I go to get him, I can't protect you. Any of you. You'll be on your own. And where I'm going is no place to be alone."

"But Angel's lost his soul before. Did all this mumbo-jumbo happen then, too?" Gunn leaned against the counter.

"Back then there was still enough good in the world for my side of the scale to be heavier. But now, with the battle in Sunnydale and the loss of so many warriors...Angelus could...make things difficult. That is why the First wants him."

"Buffy and the others defeated It at the Hellmouth—It's going to regroup and try again," Wesley figured out.

"Precisely. Which is why I can't risk any of you coming with me when I go to get Angel. You could die."

Fred felt some mixture of sadness and loyalty overcome her. She knew that Hope could very well keep them all there if she put her mind to it but she also knew that Angel was the one who had rescued her. He was a knight in shining armor and he had rescued her. Her loyalty to him outweighed her fear and respect and admiration of Hope.

"We're not afraid to die for Angel, Hope," Fred spoke up timidly, unsure if her own mouth was giving voice to the words, the thought, that ran through her head.

Hope eyed her, not expecting so timid and reserved a person to say something so radical and rash. But, Hope realized she admired that quality—the willingness to die for a fellow warrior. It was something she was proud to exemplify and reward.

* * *

The impact resonated in his ears as his head swam in and out of consciousness. Angel felt the clawed hands on some demon or another land yet another blow to his face, knocking him backwards; he'd have fallen if not for the chains still keeping him on his knees in an upright position. The taste of blood flowed into his mouth and he spat out the steel-tasting liquid.

"You know, we were so happy when I was in charge, Angel. We had fun and more fun. Then you went and ruined it for the both of us," his demonic self smiled down at him, the countenance of a vampire etched into his features.

Angel couldn't muster a reply.

"And when I thought I was finally gonna have some fun, that Hope bitch goes and spoils my good time. She changes the rules. Damn her!" he said strongly without raising his voice.

The demon struck Angel again only this time in the arm, smiling appreciatively when it heard Angel's bone break.

Angel yelped and tried to ignore the two entities bearing down on him. One verbal and the other physical.

"Tell me, _Angel_, is this really more fun? I used to force fear into the dead hearts of the vampire race. They fear me, Angel. And now, all they see is you. You and your pathetic soul. And the truth is you don't want that soul anymore, do you?" Angelus asked, kneeling and placing his evil face into Angel's.

Angel just spat at him with the blood that had continued to accumulate in his mouth. Angelus watched Angel writhe in pain as the demon landed a solid kick to his chest. Instinctively, Angel tried to double over to cradle his now-broken ribs. He could feel them rub against his lungs, puncturing them at places when he tried to straighten. Angel just wanted this pain to end. He wanted to see Hope...to feel her warm and gentle hands comfort him.

"Angel," a soft voice called out to him.

He looked up to see the demon shirk aside in Hope's presence. She was glowing in the dim light and she smiled at him.

He managed a smile; "Hope…" he coughed, the pain from his lungs still fresh in his mind from bringing in the air needed to speak.

She walked briskly up to him, kneeled in front of him, "I'm here. It's going to be fine; you'll see."

He nodded tiredly, "I know."

Her expression changed from compassion to haughtiness and she shook her head, "No. You don't know."

Angel felt his heart drop. He'd so wanted to think it was really her. He wanted it to be her. But it wasn't. He cursed at himself inwardly. He should have known.

"You're...You're not Hope," he coughed.

The First cocked an eyebrow, "Aren't I? I'm everything that makes her who she is. I am the part of her that demands vengeance and retribution. Even Hope, with all her purity, can succumb to my power."

Angel shook his head, "No."

"No what?"

"She's better than that. And she's gonna kick your ass."

Hope backed away from him and resumed the shape of Angelus. Angel knew something was coming by the eerie yellow eyes of his tormentor. He tried to brace for whatever it was, unwilling to simply give in to the First.

He screamed as a long sword came through his heart from the back, poking out the front with an audible wet slurp. Pain raced to his sinking brain, bringing with it the release of vertigo.

Angel slumped, the sword still sticking from his chest. The demon behind him readied to pull it out. Angelus smiled.

"Leave it. Wait till he comes around. We've got plenty of time," he smiled, his tongue licking his fangs as he smiled.

* * *

Hope sighed heavily, "All right. Gunn, get a map of California, will you?" she asked, looking at him for the request.

Gunn nodded wordlessly and walked into Angel's office, pulling down a map from the wall and replacing the pushpins on the corkboard. He laid it out on the coffee table between the three of them.

They all gathered around it, letting Hope eye it for a minute then pressing her for directions.

"Aside from the Hellmouth in Sunnydale, there is another one on the Baja California Sur peninsula. It's in a little town called La Paz. That's where the First has Angel. If we drive from sun-up to sun-set, we can make it there in a little less than two days."

"Why can't you just teleport us all in?" Wesley asked.

"The First can sense me if I break any mystical barriers within a good hundred miles of Its position. Our best bet is to drive. It'll be easier to haul the weapons."

"How can we get across the border with so much weaponry?"

"I'll take care of the border patrol. So long as I'm not forced to teleport myself or anyone else, the First should be taken by surprise. Also, we can't have any verbal communication once we enter the caves. I'll take care of that problem.

"The entire area is riddled with caves along the Pacific shoreline. They're our best bet to get in undetected. Be it assumed that all entrances to this small hold have demonic guards. And the caves themselves are intertwined and form a maze. And there are more perils farther inside the caves as well."

"Like what?" Gunn asked.

"Demons—just as an example. And, on a more mystical side, the area sucks in all magicks used within it. I might be able to summon one defense, maybe two. But then I'll be drained—unable to replenish my sources until we exit the system. Do you understand?" she asked, looking at each of them, making sure they new exactly what they were up against.

They each nodded, taking in the seriousness and solemnity of the situation as they faced it. Fred licked her lips, not sure she was proud of herself for declaring her willingness to die. Yet she found she truly was ready to die if it meant stopping this all-evil entity from taking away Hope's powers by taking Angel's soul.

Hope looked at the antique clock, "We'll leave here in the morning. I want you all to get a few days' worth of clothing and meet me back here in an hour. I want us all to have a good night's sleep before we deal with this."

"How do you plan to deal with the communication bit?" Wesley asked, piqued.

"Telepathy will be our means of talking. The Fist can't detect my telepathic vibes. Or the vibes of humans—demons It can. We'll deal with that obstacle tomorrow night. All right?" Hope asked, standing to show that the meeting had been officially adjourned.

The threesome stood and nodded. Gunn and Wesley walked out and Fred paused, eyeing Hope for another minute. Then she followed, leaving Hope and Lorne in the atrium. Lorne walked up to Hope.

"If it's any different to you, I think I'll stay here. I'm not one much for fighting."

Hope nodded with a tired smile, "Yeah. You hold down the fort."

"Get him back, cupcake. And I don't mean just for us."

Hope stared at him as he started to walk out. Did he know? Was his connection with her understudies that good? Or had he been talking about the good of the world?

"Lorne…"

He stopped, turned to face her, and waited.

"You know?"

He shrugged, "Kinda my gig, sweetie."

* * *

Words and moments drifted to and from Angel, his brain still unwilling to accept the gravity of the pain by waking. He seemed to see it all from a haze; it was a painless and distant fog that surrounded his being, taunting him to be conscious. It wanted him to be awake and to feel the pain. But he wasn't ready. He just stayed there, in that haze, until he could convince himself to deal with the pain and try to escape in whatever way he could. He could hear everything around him as though it were at a great distance. But there were no sights to accompany the noises. Only the promise that full consciousness would result in tremendous pain.

"…to Her…let Her see…and kill…" the words floated by, his own voice giving them meaning and purpose. Why? Why was his own voice speaking when he knew his mouth wasn't moving? Why?

He couldn't bear the suspense and finally committed to opening his eyes and awaking. The pain greeted him. In his cold body was a colder feeling through his chest and his eyes caught sight of the sword; it was still lodged in his chest, cutting through lungs, heart and ribs. He could feel his bones knitting themselves back together around the blade and he knew instinctively that any extraction would cause more pain.

He smelt blood, dried and metallic. He moved ever so slightly and felt his chest scream in pain. He also felt the dried blood on his chest restrict his motion, clinging to his skin like plastic.

"Ah, you're awake. How nice to see those eyes," his own voice, haughty and chilling, greeted him, "That looks rather painful," the yellow eyes glared at the sword, "Perhaps we should remove it," he looked behind Angel.

Angel could feel the demon's clawed hands grip the sword, the slight motion causing fresh pain.

"Now, we can make all this pain stop, you know. All you have to do is join me. Help me."

Angel used his energy to glare meaningfully at his opposite, unwilling to draw in air to speak. It was a cold, ruthless stare and most likely would have turned anyone else to stone.

"No, then? Your choice."

The sword was ripped free; Angel screamed as healing organs and flesh were ripped back apart, his bones being pulled back the wrong way. Yet he remained awake. The sword came free with a sound like ripping jeans and Angel could smell fresh, dripping blood. He panted quickly, the air keeping him awake.

The chains were let loose and Angel fell forward again, this time able to move his extremities and clutching at his gaping wound. He curled up on the floor of the old riverbed, the cool and damp pebbles offering harsh proof that he was still capable of feeling. He remained there in a fetal position, trying to keep consciousness and allow himself some time to gather his strength. He needed to be free. He needed to see Hope.

"Why? Why do you want to see her so badly, Angel?" a smooth, harmonic voice asked him.

His eyes opened as he realized the owner of the voice. He could see her a few feet away, looking down at him and eyeing his draining blood.

Darla was dressed in a white, heavenly gown. Her blonde hair was loose around her shoulders and wavered slightly as though hit by a breeze.

"You're not her," he said harshly, wheezing from the wide hole in his lung.

"No. I'm not Hope."

He managed to shake his head, "You're not Darla."

"No. She killed herself. A shame. I could've used another vampire like you. She was destined for so much more."

Angel watched as another demon flicked a lighter, the flame rising high. He could smell the gas as it wisped towards him, invisible and carrying with it the heat of the flame. It took the few steps necessary to be closer to him, the flaming lighter wielded like a weapon.

Angel winced, knowing the flame would singe and burn and char.

"Fire is so powerful, isn't it, Angel?" Darla asked rhetorically, "It can kill any living thing. It can burn away the old until all that is left is the new. The stronger, better, tougher new. Perhaps that's why mankind fears it. Yet they keep it in their homes. To make themselves believe they have harnessed its powers. Fools. The Bringers will make them realize that. Fire will rain down on your slut and your friends. And before the end they'll scream for you. They'll die, shriveled and burned while you lay here...helpless."

Angel bit his lip as the flame licked at his jaw line. He could feel it charring the skin, turning it crisp and discolored. He moved away from it in a burst of energy.

Darla chuckled.

"You think you can crawl away?" she taunted him.

The first demon was behind him, grabbing him by the hair and using it to drag him across the pebbles. Darla followed, the flame-wielding demon still threatening his safety. Where he was being dragged to, he didn't know. All he wanted was to be home. To be with his friends...his family.

* * *

Hope looked between Fred, Gunn and Wesley, "I'll be back in a little bit. I have to go get something," she said vaguely, not completely willing to accept what she was going to do.

"What're you gonna get?" Gunn asked.

She looked at him for a moment, "Something we need to save Angel," she managed to say, then turned and walked out of the atrium and into the garden.

She walked into the alleyway and sighed heavily. All this so her friends—Angel's friends—would not know her true form. She let herself lose cohesion and she felt the air around her crackle with immense power. She became a semi-solid cloud of vapor, color and form clinging to her desperately. In this form she outstretched the loose figure of her hand and opened the gateway.

* * *

The ground beneath her was solid even though invisible. All around her was the white emptiness of purity. The air was sweet and thin, carrying on it the wishes and dreams of mankind. Small shafts of heavenly light illuminated the white area, the fog at her feet and ankles moving aside as she stepped in the puddles of super white ground.

"Well, look who's here," Michael said calmly, his voice drifting with the breeze.

"I need you, Michael. I need your help."

He coalesced before her, his form becoming as solid and transparent as her own, "I know that. I remember telling you to let the mortals help you."

"Angel's in danger. I'm in danger."

"I'm aware of the situation, Young One. And, yes, you are in danger. Why don't you just kill him and erase the possibility?"

Hope eyed him, "Please. La Paz is a black hole. Our strength combined can break Angel out. Please, help me."

He scoffed, eyeing her figure, "Look at you, Hope! You're wearing clothes of their status in this—our purity! It is a gift to be what we are and you waste it by helping those who need only swift death or no help at all. You have been brainwashed into thinking that Angel matters. He does not matter! He is expendable. As such, he should be expended."

Hope remained silent for a moment, not entirely sure she wanted to argue the point. And, fearfully, she found she could think of no great argument. Finally she inhaled deeply, "He's my champion, Michael. And I am asking you for your help. That's all. Toss whatever insults you will. This mission will happen with or without you. Without you will lead to Angel's death…possibly mine. Think of that."

She started to walk back towards the gateway. She could only hope that—

"Hope, wait!"

She found some comfort in his voice, knowing now he would help.

"I'll come. But I do it for you...not for Angel."

Hope nodded, smiling slightly, "I understand."

The two of them stood side by side and opened the gateway, walking back in to the world that drowned them with angst and impurity. Hope had to catch her breath, the sudden inundation startling.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, slightly more accustomed to the shock.

"No," Hope said, looking ahead at the back entrance of the Hyperion.

Michael followed her gaze to see flames licking at the doors, smoke billowing around the atrium, poisoning the air.

Hope ran.

"Take out the flames!" she yelled, Michael's hands already outstretched to carry out the order.

She didn't bother to open the doors and simply ran right though them, her solidity faltering for the moment. She saw her three friends sprawled out on the floor, blood leaking from open wounds. Feeling the heat behind her, she continued forward, seeing the fleeting black-robed figure scurry out the other set of doors and into a portal.

Bringers.

She cursed under her breath, the smoke singeing her lungs and making her nose burn. The closest body was Gunn. She knelt next to him and checked for a pulse...it was just barely there. She looked around and saw the flames slow and then lose their danger altogether, simple embers still glowing from the heat.

Michael knelt next to Fred and Wesley who were right next to one another. He looked at her.

"These two aren't breathing!" he shouted.

Hope felt her mind race—this could not be happening. None of this could be happening. She'd only left them for a few minutes. She'd only been gone for—

She cursed, knowing the difference being on another plane of existence had. She picked up Gunn and slung him over one shoulder, running over to Fred and Wesley. She lifted Wesley like a baby and yelled at Michael to take Fred.

"Get them outside," she moved to the doors, knowing the fresh air would hopefully help bring Gunn around.

The three of them were laid on the patio, Gunn starting to cough as Hope laid him down. She smiled for that. Wesley and Fred, however, were not so easily brought back.

Michael placed a hand on Fred's neck and cursed, "There's no pulse. She's dead."

"Bring her back!" she yelled at him, concentrating on doing the same to Wesley.

"Hope…" he trailed off, about to argue that he wasn't supposed to interfere. But he caught her eyes and saw the desperation in them, knowing how much these mortals meant to her. He inhaled deeply and placed his hand on Fred's forehead, his skin starting to glow a golden sheen.

Hope laid Wesley down and did the same, her skin owning a silver sheen. For her it took less time and Wesley's eyes burst open, his lungs drawing in fresh air. He coughed heartily, the heart and brain restarting themselves. Hope cradled him and smiled, "There we go. There we go."

Wesley grasped her arms like a lifeline and continued to breathe heavily. His eyes ventured over to Fred; Michael was still working on her, trying to mentally restart the body.

"Hope…" Wesley started.

"Shhh. She's fine. You're both fine," she soothed him, her voice serene.

Fred gasped for air and Michael held her, giving her the comfort he knew she needed. With her eyes wide, Fred held onto Michael instinctively, her mind kicking in and making her crave physical contact.

Hope looked at the threesome, knowing it had been a close call and also knowing that the First would use the few seconds of death against Angel. But Gunn hadn't been captured and, even though the First could easily assume her own form, Hope had to pray that Angel was strong enough to trust her; she had to pray that he wouldn't give in to despair and make Its purpose more easily fulfilled.

* * *

Everything was upside down. The ceiling of the cavern was at his feet and the riverbed of pebbles was at his head. Everything was wrong. This wasn't how things were supposed to look. He tried to curl his chest to look at the bindings around his feet but felt a wave of vertigo from the sword wound.

"It has been done, Angel," Darla's voice called to him.

The demon next to Angel—he was upside down, too—carried a torch and held it close to Angel's bare chest. Angel yelped upon feeling his skin crack and singe.

"You know what happened?" Darla asked from a distance.

He caught sight of her distorted figure as she walked closer to him.

The flames licked his chest, sending waves of pain to his brain and demanding that he scream. He held it back, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. More pain traveled to his brain, more sounds made him sick as his skin became charred and dry. Blood poured from the openings as the skin was burned away, trailing up his chest and towards his chin and ears.

It almost tickled.

He shook his head to throw off some of the blood that was tingling his senses.

"Your friends have been killed by my Bringers," Darla kneeled next to him, her face level with his.

"You're lying."

The flames touched him again and he winced, his eyes welded shut for the moment.

"If I were lying, would I be able to take their forms?" Darla asked, daring Angel to look once he heard the swift slurp of her form changing.

Angel opened his eyes to see Wesley smiling at him. His heart dropped even lower and he held back a whimper...he didn't want to see these figures and forms of his friends.

"A shame, really," Wesley's voice echoed in the cavern, "They didn't even put up much of a fight. My Bringers were bored. As we speak, your friends are burning in the hotel, their dead bodies smelling and sending out waves of nausea to all who try to enter."

Angel felt his eyes water and he closed them, both to stop from crying and also to keep from crying out as more blood drained from skinless muscle. He needed Wesley...he needed his friends. They were all he had. He couldn't lose them and he had to believe that Hope would save them. He had to believe it.

"Oh, I wouldn't rely too much on Hope," Wesley sneered, his form giving way to Fred's, "She's off chasing Michael, trying to fix the bridges she burned. While she was off having fun, this happened to us. We were left to fend for ourselves and the Bringers killed us. Painfully, I might add. We knew Hope couldn't be trusted," Fred eyed him, standing and crossing her arms over her chest.

"No…" Angel managed, unable to say anything else for fear he would lose control of his voice. More flames singed his shoulder and he tried to move away without avail. The skin peeled back and revealed dense muscle, blood dripping onto the dry riverbed and creating a stream of red that ran to meet the flowing waters outside of Angel's view.

As the flames periodically lapped at Angel's flesh, he felt tears drain upwards on his face, mixing with the blood below.

* * *

Fred and Wesley, Gunn as well, each sipped at a cup of hot tea as Hope wrapped blankets around their shoulders. Michael had started to repair the damage and was so far doing well at it.

"What happened?" Gunn asked, still somewhat fuzzy on the details.

"Some Bringers came after you guys while I was gone. Their job was to kill you."

"Why? What threat do we pose?" Wesley asked, his voice still hoarse.

Hope sighed, "You don't pose a threat. But, the First can only assume the shape of deceased individuals. To Angel…"

"It was to hurt Angel," Fred concluded, eyeing her tea.

Hope nodded, "Yeah, it was. And, since you are his family, it could be a very crippling blow. We can only hope that Angel doesn't give in."

"We're still going after him in the morning?" Gunn asked.

"Yeah. We have to. And I brought reinforcements. We might need him," Hope looked over her shoulder at Michael.

"You think he'll help us?" Gunn asked.

"I do. He's an extra set of super-strong hands that we need at this point. I don't think we can do this unless we have all the help we can get."

"So...when we...died...you and he brought us back?" Fred asked sheepishly.

"We did."

"I don't remember anything," Fred said, her voice bordering on sadness.

"You aren't meant to. You and Wesley hadn't made it...there wasn't enough time…" Hope trailed off, finding it harder than she thought to explain.

"I like it better that way. I don't want to know," Wesley said suddenly, putting his empty teacup aside. He looked between Hope, Fred and Gunn, "I think we should all get some rest. It's been a long day and we have to shove off early in the morning."

Hope nodded in agreement, "Yeah. Goodnight."

Oddly enough, Gunn and Fred walked off relatively quickly, leaving Wesley there for a moment to eye Hope. He sighed heavily, taking a step towards her.

"Thank you…for bringing us back," he said quietly, his eyes quickly dashing over Hope's shoulder to look at Michael, then focusing back on Hope.

She smiled, "It's what I'm here for."

Wesley seemed to accept that and walked off towards the room he'd placed his belongings in for the night. Hope watched them go, knowing there was much confusion about them and knowing it would heal in time. She looked over her shoulder at Michael, hoping things would not get out of hand. She sighed heavily and started to walk up to her room.

"Goodnight, Michael," she said slowly.

He watched her ascend the flight of stairs, "Goodnight."

The door closed behind her and he felt some part of him sink. He had so hoped it would never come to this. He was being called on to save her champion, the vampire with a soul. But, as much as he hated to admit it, there was a quality Angel had that Michael knew he would never own in Hope's eyes. There was that mercy and that deepness—the remorse for deeds past. Whereas Hope and Michael had learned never to look back on the past unless it were absolutely necessary, Angel did so on a regular basis and it brought him grief.

Hope had found it in herself to help console that grief. And that made it all the harder for Michael. She had taken it upon herself to be his guardian when no such bond was required of her. She had lowered herself to his level and was still so happy.

And Michael was alone.

It bothered him that Hope had, at one point in history, been his. It was easy for her to follow the golden rule of not looking back, but Michael had it harder because he was constantly reminded of what he lost. What he had had and lost.

* * *

Hope let her clothes fall to the floor. They still reeked of smoke from the fire but, with time, she knew they would air out. The smell was the least of her worries. In the morning she and her companions would set out to save Angel. Whether or not they would succeed was still up in the air. The five of them would face the First without any supernatural means of defeating it. Hope pulled on her pajamas and tried to sleep, her mind heavy with concern and doubt.

* * *

Blood dripped.

Flames flickered.

Tears fell.

Skin cracked.

Hours passed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Weapons were loaded into the back of a Honda Element. A large first aid kit was stored securely under the driver's seat and clothes were in plastic bags surrounding the back seats. Hope eyed the Hyperion as her companions loaded into the SUV, hoping all would be the same when she got back. As strange as it was, this place felt like home to her and she had no intention of letting it be destroyed by the First's minions. But, she had to hope, the Bringers were assured of their success in killing her friends. They would not come back.

"Ready?" Michael asked, preparing to close one of the bay doors on the side of the car.

Hope nodded and walked around to the other side of the car and closed the driver side door.

"We all ready?" she asked, looking at Fred beside her and the guys in the back seat.

"Let's go for it," Gunn said, the slight enthusiasm in his voice making Hope smile.

She started the SUV and drove off, quickly flooring the gas pedal with assurance that no cop would dare to pull her over.

* * *

His skin had started to mend but there was still the tightness and pain of it. It had been hours since the flames had gone away. But still everything was upside down and Angel felt his head become heavier by the minute. The riverbed beneath him was stained with large pools of draining blood; some of it had dried and some of it had made it to the river. Angel could feel the blood coating his face, felt it smother him. His ankles and feet had been gone for so long that Angel swore he'd never regain feeling in them again.

Consciousness had left him several times and he welcomed the next wash of darkness. It meant his pain would stop and he would be able to dream. He would be able to see his friends; he would be able to see Hope.

He fell.

It took him a minute to realize what had happened. He lay on his back, staring up at the cavern ceiling, unsure if he could trust his vision. Vertigo passed over him and he welcomed it back. Under the fog that settled on his mind, he could hear footsteps coming closer and he saw one pair of clawed feet already next to him. Then all was black.

* * *

He could hear soft footfalls come up behind him as he looked over the small town of the Sunnydale, the sun's unseen heat tingling his covered skin. The brisk air seemed to grow colder, nipping at his exposed face.

"Angel?" Buffy's concerned voice reached him.

He looked over his shoulder, not wanting to deal with this. He needed to do what he was doing. The ghosts had made him see the truth and now he needed to carry out his punishment. He barely gave her a glance and turned to look at the town below.

"I bet half the kids down there are already awake. Lying in their beds, sneaking downstairs—" a train sounded in the distance. He eyed the houses knowing that Christmas morning was looming, yet didn't care— "Waiting for day."

Buffy walked up next to him urgently, "Angel, please...I need you to get inside. There...there's only a few minutes left."

He shook his head slightly, "I know. I can smell the sunrise long before it comes."

She eyed him, "I don't have time to explain this, you just have to trust me. That thing that was haunting you—"

He turned to face her slightly, "It wasn't haunting me," he declared, cutting her off, knowing the sun was coming ever closer, "It was showing me."

"Showing you?" she asked unsurely.

"What I am."

"Were," she emphasized.

He felt his dead heart drop, "And ever shall be. I wanted to know why I was back. And now I do."

Buffy shook her head, "You don't know! Some great evil takes credit for bringing you back and you buy it?" she asked incredulously, "You just give up?!"

He looked away and looked back at her, the strength inside of him failing, "I can't do it again, Buffy! I can't become a killer," he looked to the east.

"Then fight it!" she urged him, still standing at his side.

He shook his head rapidly, feeling tears start to well up behind his eyes, "It's too hard. Mhmm mhmm," he continued to shake his head, hoping Buffy would leave him be. Hoping she would let him burn alone.

"Angel, please, you have to get inside!" she begged, knowing the sun would be coming up any second.

"It told me to kill you," he eyed her, "You were in the dream—you know," he pointed at her, "It told me to lose my soul in you and become a monster again."

"I know what it told you," she watched as he looked away again, "What does it matter?" she asked loudly.

He faced her lividly, ashamed of the words about to come out of his mouth, "Because I wanted to! Because I want you so badly. I wanna take comfort in you and I know it'll cost me my soul and a part of me doesn't care," he emphasized, feeling the cold continue to nip at his face; he whimpered and looked away again.

Buffy felt tears well up in her eyes, too. She looked at Angel for a second, seeing him as if for the first time. He was hurting so terribly and all she could do was want to help him overcome that pain.

"I'm weak. I've never been anything else," he continued, his face pale and his eyes bearing his soul to her, "It's not the demon in me that needs killing, Buffy, it's the man," a tear fell to his cheek as he turned away.

"You're weak—everybody is. Everybody fails! Maybe this evil did bring you back—" she gestured with her hands— "But if it did it's because it needs you. And that means that you can hurt it! Angel, you have the power to do real good, to make amends," she continued, tears dampening her cold face, "But if you die now then all that you ever were was a monster! Angel, please, the sun is coming up!"

"Just go."

"I won't."

"What, do you think this is simple? You think there's an easy answer? You can never understand what I've done! Now go!"

"You are not staying here! I won't let you—" she grabbed his arm.

He tore away from her, "I said leave!" he yelled in a rage, his mind no longer controlling him.

She punched him.

He threw her to the ground and she landed on her side, her white coat clashing with the green, tropical grass. His mind took control again and he felt guilt well up in his chest, "Oh, my God," he said under his breath and inaudibly to Buffy. He walked over to where she lay, straddling her and grabbing her by the lower arms, turning her, making her lean up and face him. She yelped in surprise, her tears draining to her mouth.

He eyed her, " Am I a thing worth saving?—huh?" he shook her once violently, "Am I a righteous man?!" his voice gave way for a moment. Her wet eyes gazed at his and she let him shake her, too caught up to know how to escape from his tight grasp, "The world needs me gone," he said, his voice deepening.

She swallowed hard, her voice nothing more than a weak whisper, "What about me? I love you so much. And I tried to make you go away. I killed you and it didn't help," she found the strength and resolve to push him away.

He landed on his rear, taken aback at her words and watching her get to her knees while he remained on the cold ground.

"And I hate it! I hate that it's so hard! And that you can hurt me so much. I know everything that you did because you did it to _me_. God...I _wish _that I wished you dead. I don't. I can't," she said, more tears falling. She saw the look of pain in Angel's eyes and she stood the rest of the way, him following her to his feet.

"Buffy, please—just this once—let me be strong," he begged of her.

She approached him, "Strong is fighting! It's hard and it's painful and it's everyday. It's what we have to do and we can do it together."

He shook his head and looked down in shame.

She felt anger inside of her, "But if you're too much of a coward for that, then burn. If I can't convince you that you belong in this world then I don't know what can!"

A snowflake fell on her shoulder.

"But _do not _expect me to watch and don't expect me to mourn for you because—" she cut herself off, seeing more snowflakes.

They both looked to the sky, seeing the snow come in sheets, covering the grass. As they both spun round to take in the sight, their eyes met each other's and they felt safety surround them. It was snowing in Sunnydale and they could enjoy it. The clouds were blocking the sun and it was still black as night out.

The two of them made their way down to the main street where they walked hand in hand, looking at the snow-covered streets as a newscaster told them the obvious. They just looked at one another, feeling warmth inside of them that even the snowy air couldn't douse.

* * *

"Awww, dreaming of the good old days, are we?" Buffy's voice reached his ears, dragging him from the peacefulness of blackness.

He opened his swollen eyes to see her visage leaning over him, taunting him with her closeness. But he knew it wasn't her. He swallowed hard, his mouth dry and hurting.

He found the strength to speak, "Why don't you just kill me?"

Buffy smiled at him, "No, you still have potential. And there's still so much I can take from you."

"I'm not gonna help you...you can't win over me."

Buffy shrugged, "Your loss. You can do so much more, you know. You can be so much more than what you are: a spineless puppet of the Powers. I can give you the control you want and need. I can give you that happiness," Buffy's face came eerily close to his and he swore he could feel warm breath from her lips.

The demon next to Angel let loose a quick and powerful kick to his chest and Angel instinctively grabbed at the injury, curling up in pain. He could feel his still-healing ribs break again, sending shards into his lungs and letting the blood start to make its way up his windpipe.

Buffy took a step back as the demon advanced on Angel again, a malicious grin on its face. It ran its claws over Angel's arms as he tried to hold his aching chest. Angel felt a feral growl echo in his throat, gurgled by blood, and for a moment his face changed over in self-defense. The demon took another try and this time Angel would have none of it. He kicked the demon as it lunged at him, sending it backwards and into the wall.

"Why are you fighting? All you've ever been good for is giving in. Don't let Hope fool you. You're not some champion."

He got his hands and knees under him, trying to ignore the pain his ribs were causing as shattered fragments pierced his lungs and tissues. He stood and looked downwards at Buffy, some anger rising inside of him. A Bringer ran at him with a dagger and Angel tossed him aside, his mind beyond realizing the pain. He ran clumsily towards the only exit he could see, hoping to be free of this evil.

"You're not a hero. You were born to cause the world pain."

A large demon blocked his way. Angel skidded to a halt, knowing that any hit from the larger demon would surely send him spiraling into blackness. Expecting a grab of some sort, Angel tried to block the devil-demon's large clawed hand.

He wasn't expecting to be impaled.

Four large, bullhorn-like claws pierced his skin under the ribcage and Angel gasped at the pain, his face returning to that of a human. Rivers of cranberry blood drained from the wounds and Angel grabbed at the devil-demon's hand, trying to pry it out of his torso.

Smiling, the demon threw Angel off his hand like shaking water off and, once Angel had hit the pebbled floor, it kicked him. Angel felt more blood come up from his lungs and he coughed, blood bubbling inside his mouth. He watched forlornly as the First, as Buffy, came closer to him, apparently amused at his quick burst of defiance and strength.

"You are nothing but a puppet. At least when you were Angelus you were feared and respected. Now…you're barely more than a leftover. And no matter what you do, you'll always be on my team."

Angel eyed Buffy vehemently, feeling pain and anger well up inside him, "Then why did she make it snow? Why'd she save me? Huh? You didn't bring me back. She did. She made it snow. You could only show up because she was there."

Two Bringers came up behind him and picked him up by his arms, forcing him to stand. He panted through clenched teeth, the pain overwhelming.

But he remained awake.

Buffy took a step closer, her face only inches from his. The face changed to become Hope's and the smile on it was one of cruel pleasure, "Maybe I wanted the satisfaction of killing you myself…or maybe I knew what a good boy-toy you'd make."

* * *

"We've got two rooms with a wake-up call at eight. Girls in one, guys in the other," Hope said, walking back to the Element with a pair of keys.

Wesley and the others filed out of the SUV, the midnight sky filled with stars and nothing else. They'd crossed the border earlier in the day and Hope had decided to get as far as possible by midnight. The little hotel they'd stopped at was the only one around for miles and, despite its outward appearance, was rather comfortable.

Gunn started to unload the bags from the trunk. Hope stopped him.

"We gonna leave all this out here overnight?"

Hope smiled, "No one'll steal it. They won't even know it's there. Just bring in the clothes. That's all we need for the night."

While the three guys brought in the little plastic bags full of clothes, Fred and Hope walked up to their room on the second story. Hope smiled upon entering, the décor of the room pleasing and subtle. At the back of the two-bed room was an adjoining door to the guys' room. The bathroom was Old El Paso-like and pictures of Central American artwork were hung for display. Hope plopped down on the bed closest to the door and left the door open, knowing the guys would bring in the clothes for them.

"It's nice here," Fred smiled, sitting on the other bed.

"It is."

"Knock knock!" Gunn smiled, bringing in a few small plastic bags for Fred.

"Thanks," Fred smiled at him, taking the bags and placing them on her bed.

"Y'all okay in here?" Gunn asked, closing the door behind him and moving to the adjoining door in the back corner.

"Yeah. Let us get changed then we'll talk about tomorrow."

Gunn walked out and left the two ladies there to change. In his own room, Wesley had already changed and was trying to flip through the television channels to find something in English. There was nothing on.

"There're only two beds?" Gunn asked.

"It appears so. Michael can take one and you and I can take the other," Wesley suggested, turning the television off.

"Wes, I like ya and all, but we _are not _sharing a bed."

Michael smiled, "Afraid he's gonna kiss you goodnight?"

"No one asked you."

"Boys—enough bickering," Hope walked in. She was in a t-shirt and shorts ensemble that just so happened to boast puffy little clouds and cherubs on it.

"We _are not _sharing a bed."

"One of you guys can sleep in my bed—"

Michael smiled in thought, "I'll take that offer."

"I'll be in the recliner."

Michael sighed.

Hope sat on the corner of the closer bed, her little fuzzy and light blue slippers on as she crossed her legs Indian-style.

Fred walked in and took a spot next to her.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Wesley asked.

"Fight and don't die," Michael said obviously.

"We kinda guessed that part."

"As far as defenses, the First is gonna have the worst of the worst in It's tow. Most of the demons we face on a day-to-day basis are nothing compared to the army It has."

"Any examples?" Wesley asked.

"Cladaqeys and shape shifters are the main inhabitants of La Paz," Michael said constructively.

"I've never heard of a cladaqey," Wesley said.

"You wouldn't. The foremost demonologists of the world have listed it as extinct. Very few people know of their existence," Hope said.

"So how do we fight these things?" Fred asked

"All Michael and I can really do is prepare you. Hopefully, he and I will be doing most of the fighting."

"So, this should be fun."

"Yeah. If everything goes as planned, Hope and I should be able to protect you guys from them. The best protection we can offer are these," he pulled some trinkets out of his pants pocket. He handed one to each of the humans and looked to Hope.

Hope continued, "They're ancient talismans. They repel demonic forces. They should give you the protection we can't."

"What about you two?" Fred asked.

"Only three were made. We'll take our chances."

"Why were only three made?" Gunn asked, eyeing his.

Hope sighed heavily, looking at the stone figurines. Each was the size of a quarter and made from stone. They all had oddly shaped figures on them. Wesley studied his for a moment. They looked like runes. Hope looked to Michael.

"Michael and I were able to steal these during the demonic ages. These stones hold in them three strengths of the demonic race. One...is the Master. Another was a demonic god from way back in the day. And the third one is me."

"Why? Why would you be a strength of the demons?" Wesley asked, turning his around to get a better look at it.

"Because I was born of a human and a vampire. I am part demon and that part of me is considered to be a great strength."

Gunn, Fred and Wesley seemed to absorb the new information. They'd known about Hope's parentage long before this but it had never really struck them that she—the epitome of innocence and selflessness—could be part demon. That she had in her the same feral and brutal nature that her father might've.

"However, there is another risk. Because of Hope's...heritage...this other Hellmouth could bring out the demon within her. Luckily, it theoretically wouldn't affect her morals...but it might affect her personality and her emotions," Michael said, looking between the ashamed Hope and her friends.

"If that happens, what should we do?" Fred asked, eyeing Hope and afraid of the possibility.

"Ignore it. That's the best thing we can do."

Hope swallowed hard and licked her lips, "Also, as I said before, there can't be any talking once we're inside the caves. We'll have to communicate telepathically. For that to happen, each of you has to be connected to both Michael and me."

"How do we go about that?" Wesley asked, sitting on the bed next to Hope and Michael.

"We simply imprint ourselves within your mind. It takes only seconds. Afterwards, all you have to do is think and we'll hear it."

"Are we going to do that now?" Fred asked.

"No. Otherwise none of us would get to sleep. We'll do it in the morning after we're all awake. We need the sleep tonight. Speaking of …" Hope smiled casually, trying to reassure not only herself but the others as well.

"Who's sleeping where?" Gunn asked.

Hope smiled as she stood, "We can make an extra bed in here if you're uncomfortable, Charles."

"Think that may be best," he agreed, then followed Hope and Fred into the other room.

* * *

Hope stood on the small walkway-balcony on the second floor, looking at the clear night sky. It would be dawn soon and she wanted it to come faster, feeling uncomfortable alone in the dark. Everything was on the table—every card she had to play, every move she could make, it was all there. And she had to hope she'd seen all the cards the First was going to play as well.

She breathed deeply, the southern air tickling her throat. It was sweet, full of tropical scents and fragrances. Midnight flowers bloomed and their whiteness gave the appearance of cotton on the horizon. It was so much more serene than the city. And she inhaled again, taking in the vast beauty the area had to offer.

Michael walked up to her. She didn't look at him. He followed her gaze to see the wandering hills and mountains beyond. She knew he was also looking at her. But she didn't care. Her mind was too busy to deal with what he wanted to hear or say.

"Can't sleep?"

She nodded, "Yeah."

"We'll save him, Hope."

"I know."

"So why am I here?"

"I need your help."

"No. I mean, _why_ do you want me here?"

"Because I'm not ready for you to leave again."

She left him there to walk into her room.

* * *

In the caverns that were his jail, Angel felt so weak from the wounds as he was strung up onto wooden planks, his arms stretched wide and his feet tied together at the ankles. He looked down vehemently at the First in the shape of Hope, knowing what was coming and yet unable to make a move to defend himself.

His midsection still drained blood and that blood had turned his already black pants a darker shade of pain. Blood swelled inside his mouth and he casually spat it out, the taste of it unnerving.

The bringers holding the hammers were still as death, waiting for the inaudible order to strike. As Angel looked to either palm, down to his feet, the panic of what was about to happen come over him. More bringers held large, roman flathead spikes for the others to hit. Angel clenched his jaw, trying to calm himself before the pain started.

The first blows landed.

Angel screamed as the nails were driven down into his palms and the tops of his feet.

Another set of blows hit him and he fought back the tears that wanted to trail down his cheeks. Some part of him felt like laughing—he was being crucified to a set of beams. How ironic. How perfectly ironic.

* * *

Hope jerked awake, her fists on fire. She eyed the others for their peacefulness, bringing her hands to her chest insecurely. She curled up in the recliner, knowing the vision she'd had had just come to pass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Are you okay, Hope?" Fred asked, making the bed and eyeing the goddess since Hope had been quiet all morning and was seemingly lost in her own thoughts. She'd just stared out the windows, eyeing the rising sun and the colorful landscape.

"I'm fine," she answered distantly.

Gunn and Fred shared a glance, neither of them wanting to pursue the matter further. Michael walked in from the other room and quickly caught sight of Hope. He seemed to scan her and sighed heavily.

"Hope."

Fred eyed him for a moment before quickly taking Gunn by the arm and pulling him towards the other room. She closed the adjoining door behind her and Hope and Michael were left alone.

"What now, Michael?"

"You felt something last night. I felt it because you did."

"Like what?" she asked tiredly.

"It was your hands."

"Maybe."

"Don't play games with me. Something happened last night and you need to tell me what it was!"

Hope looked downtrodden, "I can't."

"What?" he asked incredulously.

Her face became pale, "I can't tell you because I'm not sure. I think I know. I want to think I know. But then the answer…"

"Hope…" Michael trailed off, unable to bring together a sentence.

"The only thing I have left to fight for is Angel...he's the only thing that's kept me going. I'm supposed to protect him, right?"

He eyed her sympathetically, "Karina..."

"I haven't told a soul, Michael. I haven't even admitted it to the Old One. It has just been in here—" she tapped her heart spasmodically, "—all this time and I felt it hurt last night. I felt it come out last night. I felt what he felt, Michael. The vision I had…"

"The hand wounds."

She nodded, "I had a purpose once, Michael. I'm here to protect him. And now I can't even do that," she whimpered, collapsing on the edge of the bed.

Michael took her by the shoulders, "You couldn't have stopped it."

She stared at the floor, "Then what good am I to him? To anyone on our side? Tell me?" she begged.

"You're the strong one, Hope. Between the two of us, you've always been the strong one. And you will get to Angel and you will fight for him. You will save and protect him. You have so much to strive for. You can't let this upset you," he shook her once, trying to shake the words into her.

She sniffled, "God...I've protected him for so long...I never thought it would come down to this."

"You can only do so much. No matter how powerful you are, Hope, you're just one woman. One amazing, talented and beautiful woman. Angel knows what he has and he won't let you feel this way. Neither will I. You can still get back that purpose. You know you can. I know you can."

Hope looked into his eyes and nodded, a slight smile on her face, "Thanks."

He shrugged, "It's what I do."

Hope, feeling what Michael could not, put her fingers to her lips and stood, walking towards the adjoining door. She opened it mentally and Wesley, Fred and Gunn stumbled, their weight having been on the door.

"Oh, Hope—what a coincidence," Fred smiled anxiously.

Hope cocked an eyebrow, "You know, eavesdropping is a bad thing," she reprimanded the threesome.

"Well, it's not like you were being quiet and all," Wesley stood and brushed himself off.

Hope rolled her eyes and started towards the other door.

* * *

He was dreaming. The First knew it and smiled, watching him. It looked to a shape shifter demon next to It.

"Once he awakens, pretend to be the black one. That should get to him."

The demon nodded and changed its shape, becoming the exact copy of Charles Gunn. He sat there, waiting and watching for the vampire to wake up. He secretly hoped it was soon.

Angel continued to dream. He was on top of the Hyperion, looking at a brilliant sky. There was a cool breeze. It felt like winter. He felt something. Some heat in his gut. He turned to see her there, walking towards him. She smiled.

"Hey."

There was a flash of pain but he pushed it away, knowing it would only take him away from her. It would make him be awake. She was beautiful. Her white gossamer gown was flowing on the breeze and full moonlight highlighted her cheekbones and clavicle.

"Hope, how is this possible?" he asked.

"It's your dream. I'm just here 'cause you want me to be."

"But the others…"

"They're not dead. I promise. We'll get you. You'll be home."

"I trust you."

She smiled.

"Angel!"

He looked to his side to see Hope. This Hope was dirtied and bloody. Beaten with ragged clothes. This wasn't the elegant Hope he knew. Confused, he kept his eyes on her as she ran closer.

"How…"

The Hope he'd been talking to staked him. He could feel himself lose cohesion. With his last sight, he saw the First change shape, looking like him, the stake still there.

Angel was forced awake as the pain of the dream set in. And with consciousness came the pain from his hands and feet. He felt his knees become sore from leaning his weight on them. With his eyes welded shut against the pain, he tried to stay as still as possible, the skin and bones on and in his hands screaming for release.

"Yo, Angel!" Gunn's voice reached his tired ears.

Angel opened his eyes to see Gunn in front of him, apparently coming towards him. He shook his head, not wanting to see Gunn while he was in the First's possession.

"No.…you're not him," he denied, "He can't be dead…" Angel trailed off, his lungs hurting as he spoke.

Gunn cocked an eyebrow and smiled, "I'm here, man. We're gonna get you out. Come on," he touched Angel's hand, gently trying to move the stake. Angel noticed the fact that this apparition could touch things.

"Gunn?" he asked in disbelief.

He smiled at him again, "Told you I was real."

"Where's Hope?" Angel asked, giving in to a coughing fit afterwards and feeling the blood that had settled during his vertigo shaken up; it found its way to his mouth and he spat it out, the pain excruciating.

Gunn licked his lips, "I don't know, man. After...never mind," Gunn said quickly.

"What?" Angel rasped.

"Fred...Wesley...they didn't make it," his face became somber.

Angel felt all the strength he had drain away. Gunn was the only one—the only one who had come to help him. The others were gone. They were dead. And Hope wasn't around.

"Listen, we've got to get you out of here. This big bad that's holding you—It ain't happy I got in," Gunn continued to struggle with the spike.

Angel saw a demon come up behind Gunn and, in the hurry to say something, found himself coughing and gagging again. He recovered and saw Gunn eye him.

"Gunn!"

Gunn gasped as the thick bullhorn claws came through his chest vertically, the topmost one being at his clavicle. Blood drained from his mouth and the open wounds as the devil-demon pulled his hand back.

"No!" Angel stared on in disbelief as Gunn dropped to the pebbled floor beneath him. He saw the demon hover over his body and start to pull it away, licking its chops as it went.

Tears welled up in his eyes and he let his impaled hands hold his full weight; his pinned legs couldn't support him anymore. He whimpered, sobbed and tried to believe that Hope was still out there and she would set all this right. He had to believe it. That was all he had left.

"Wrong, Angel. You have nothing left," Fred walked out from another cavern and smiled at him innocently.

Angel shook his head, "You're wrong. I…"

She chuckled, "Silly vampire, do you really think Hope will run in here? She's too smart for that. You're nothing to her, Angel—just a plaything. All of your friends are dead...they aren't coming back. What have you to be good for?" she asked, moving closer to him.

The devil-demon came back dragging a large mallet. Angel eyed it and knew what was about to happen, knew that his pain was about to multiply beyond reason.

"Now, Angel, join me...and we can stop all this right now. You'll be free of this soul. This soul that causes you so much trouble. And, as an incentive, I'll bring your three buddies back to life...completely and totally unharmed...what do you think about that?"

Angel lifted his heavy head to look at Fred...her smile taunting and sickening at the same time. God, how he wanted to give in.

The large mallet landed on its target swiftly and painfully. Angel screamed before his mind was shrouded in blackness again.

The First looked on with a sinister smile, twirling a lock of Fred's hair on Its finger. She sighed heavily and looked to the demon next to her.

"Too bad."

* * *

Hope stopped the Element, her eyes trained on a small abysmal opening in the rocks ahead. She inhaled deeply.

"This is it," Michael sighed.

"Take whatever weapons you can carry. Make sure to keep your pendants on."

They unloaded and walked around to the back of the SUV, a strange nervousness creeping over them. Hope was constantly looking over her shoulder. She was twitchy, like a bird. Taking out the weapons she wanted, she moved away from the Element, looking at the parched landscape. Michael came up next to her.

Hope looked to him, "You take the rear. I'll lead."

Walking into the caves, Hope held her sword up, her white-knuckled grip on it getting whiter by the moment. Fred sidled up close to her. Hope's fingers were wrapped about the grip like a vice.

_Remember, silence is the golden rule,_ Hope didn't bother looking over her shoulder at them.

She felt her face change and she inhaled deeply in shock.

Michael was at her side, supporting her and trying to keep her calm. Her forehead scrunched up slightly and her eyes turned yellow. Fangs protruded out from under her upper lip, not as long as Angel's but prominent enough to show the change within her.

_Hope?_ Michael asked.

She straightened, licking her lips, _I feel it, Michael. I can feel all of it,_ she smiled derisively.

_Push it away. Change back,_ he urged her.

Her ears shifted slightly, her ultra-sensitive hearing picking something up. She took a step forward, ignoring the fearful stares from her comrades. Tracing her open lips with her wet tongue, she sniffed the air.

_Hope? What is it?_ Wesley asked, the first to try and communicate with her.

A demon lunged out at them from the left, teeth bared and claws extracted. Hope made a grab at the thing's neck, stopping it as it lunged at the foursome behind her.

It scratched her on her cheek, hunched and fighting like a large cat without fur. Hope seemed to enjoy the pain and licked the draining blood from her face. With a feral snarl, she snapped the demons small neck. It crunched.

It stopped moving and Hope threw it down, looking sideways at the others. She licked the blood from her draining cheek

As if suddenly coming back to earth, she collapsed against the cave wall, breathing quick and shallow. Her face turned back and she brought air in to ground her. Michael hunched down next to her, a soft, understanding smile on his face.

_You good?_ he asked.

She nodded.

A primal scream echoed through the caves. Hope snapped her head up to better hear where it was coming from.

_That was Angel_, she said to no one in particular.

She ran desperately, trying to find her champion before she lost track of the scream's origin. She heard the footsteps of those behind her, trying to keep up.

She stopped dead upon seeing a large, cloven, purple demon standing with his back to her, a club the height of herself in his hand. He wore a suit of leather armor and Hope realized in disgust that the leather wasn't animal.

It was human.

Tufts of preserved hair were on the shoulder pads of the demon, human teeth and bones adorning the belt. The others caught up with her and stopped just as quickly as she had.

Without a word or thought, Michael ran forward, a sword in hand, and took a good stab at the demon. With the sword in up to the hilt, the demon screeched and twirled, throwing Michael off itself and separating him from the rest of the group.

Hope lunged, her sword landing solidly in one of his massive eyes. The demon pinned her up against the wall and Gunn and Wesley charged as they heard bones crack in Hope's ribcage. She stifled a scream and pulled her blade out of his eye and pressed it solidly into his hand holding her against the wall. It barely affected him and he smiled as blood drained from his wounded eye socket to his mouth.

Gunn, Wesley and Michael charged at once, their silent battle waging as Hope felt her lungs compressed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred take aim with a crossbow and smiled when the arrow hit the demon in his ear. He dropped Hope in pain and tried to pry the arrow out of his ear, groping for it mindlessly.

Michael smiled and jumped up at the demon, pressing his full weight against the arrow and shoving it completely into his cerebral cavity. The demon convulsed and let out one last screech before he toppled slightly, regained his balance, then finally fell.

Gunn was at Hope's side, eyeing her in question, _Are you okay?_

She smiled, _I'll be fine._

She stood, still hunched over, and inhaled deeply, her bones cutting into her lungs slightly.

_Watch out!_ Michael's voice echoed in their heads as the demon lashed out in a final attempt to take a victim. He nailed Gunn as he moved the slow Hope out of the way. He was thrown up against the cavern wall, hitting hard and wincing when the pain of the impact finally registered.

Fred shot another arrow into the demon's ear, piercing the brain again. He shuddered and lay still, the second arrow doing more damage than the first and finalizing his plight to take out one of them.

Michael yanked the sword out of the back of the corpse, walking over to Gunn next.

_Can you stand?_ Michael asked him.

Gunn nodded thoughtlessly and stood without much help, exhaling deeply.

Michael looked over to Hope,_ Can you go on?_

_ I can. It's just a few ribs. Nothing bad,_ she assured him.

_So, what fun comes up next?_ Fred asked, smiling meekly.

Hope smiled,_ Nice shot. Good thinking._

She smiled stronger in acknowledgement and they continued to walk, Hope in no hurry to push herself by running. She walked around the bleeding corpse and held onto her side, trying to ignore the mounting pain.

Wesley walked up beside her and helped to prop her up with a smile. She returned it and continued to walk with one hand draped over his shoulder.

It felt like they walked for hours until another prominent fork in the caves came up. Hope knew there was no real way to tell which way to go. But, she had several traits that none of her companions owned. Standing on her own and keeping Wesley behind her, she allowed herself to give in to the vampire that slept. Her nose immediately picked up the scent of Angel's blood. She took a good whiff and judged that it was coming from the right fork. She forced herself to deny the urge to snack on something and turned back into her human form, knowing that any prolonged release of her alter-self could become a problem.

She staggered down the right tunnel and heard a swish under the foot she stepped down with. Her eyes looked down while her head stayed nearly immobile. She winced and inhaled deeply upon seeing a red river under her feet, the water not water at all but thicker and warmer than any underground stream should have been. She picked her foot up reflexively and felt the blood seep into her shoe. She could tell some of the blood was Angel's upon taking another vampiric sniff of it. She looked down to her left, the way the river was flowing. Angel's blood was coming from upstream which meant they should all follow the immensely disconcerting river.

_Hope?_ Michael asked.

_It's blood. We should take off any clothes we can,_ she started to pull off her shoes and socks, looking for a crevice in which to store them.

Michael agreed silently and pulled off his shirt. Wesley and Gunn followed suit.

_What are we doing? _Fred asked.

Hope took off her tank top, leaving only a sports bra on, and looked sympathetically at her, _We can make it through the river easier if we don't have clothes to weigh us down. We can't afford to carry them. We'll leave them here for when we come back. Take off everything you can,_ she looked form one person to the next.

As she folded up her shirt, Fred felt her heart skip a beat upon seeing the new bruises from where Hope had been injured. Most of the right side of her torso was bruised and Fred turned away quickly as Hope turned to look at her, pulling up her hair

They all stripped as much as they could, the girls remaining in bras and jeans, the guys left only in their pants.

_Hope, are you sure about this?_ Wesley asked, _The blood could seduce you._

_ I'm sure. Angel's blood is coming from upstream. If we follow the river, we'll find him and hopefully not much else. I doubt many creatures will be hiding in a river of blood or waiting for us to come at them from it. _

_ Good point,_ he allowed.

In the darkness, Hope was the first to enter the river fully, the blood coming up to her thighs. With a look of disgust, she beckoned for the others to follow her. One by one they entered the blood, none of them entirely comfortable in running blood that was unnervingly warm. They waded in it, weapons above their heads and out of the mixture.

_This is nasty,_ Gunn commented.

_Think of it this way. You won't know what's yours when you get hurt,_ Michael answered with a smile.

_Thanks for the image, _Gunn thanked him sarcastically.

Hope felt a drop-off in the riverbed and tested the deepness with her foot, trying to keep herself mostly above the running liquid. She felt the smooth pebbles give way and she knew that there was no chance of walking through the next length of river. She was going to have to swim and so would the others.

Fred screamed.

Hope fell forward from the unexpected shriek and landed in the bloodied river, her sword falling from her hands.

Under the blood she felt a quick burst of disgust as something squishy rubbed up against her. She spasmodically kicked at it, unable to see anything and feeling the blood seep into her welded shut eyes. Trying to control her nerves, she dove deeper and tried to find her sword, hoping the bottom wasn't too far down. She felt something brush against her again, the slithering thing feeling slimier than the blood she was surrounded with.

She hit the bottom, groping blindly for her sword.

* * *

_What's wrong?_ Gunn asked frantically, moving closer to Fred.

_I felt something, something tough and...it felt like skin,_ she said, her mental voice stronger than her vocal one would have been.

Michael moved around her, testing the substrate for the described object. His toes brushed up against it and he bent over, picking it up. It was an arm.

_Oh, dear God,_ Wesley stated as Fred recoiled.

Michael threw it off to the side, hoping the current would take it away. He looked around.

_Where's Hope?_ he asked.

The four of them looked around, hoping to find any trace of where she'd gone.

She rose out of the blood with a gasp, her face and hair covered in it. She held her sword in one hand, trying to wipe the blood out of her face with bloodied hands.

Michael walked over to her, falling and dropping up to his chin before realizing that there was no riverbed to step on. He helped to drag her back to the higher part of the riverbed and she coughed harshly, her ribs obviously giving her some trouble.

Gunn helped to wipe off her face with his previously clean hands and she spat out what blood was in her mouth. 

_ We're gonna have to swim through the next leg of the river. It's too deep. We can't walk, _she said tiredly but with authority, trying to ignore the blood that was draining from her hair onto her face, into her eyes and mouth.

_Want me to lead?_ Michael offered.

She shook her head, _No. I'm the one who needs to do this. Try to stay together. The current gets stronger if you get down too deep. _

_ Lead the way,_ Wesley walked up behind her, the blood feeling cold against his sweating skin. He watched as she willingly submerged herself up to her chin and started to swim with the sword in tow, the ripples from her strokes seeming so out of place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

She found solid riverbed again, the river becoming shallower and the blood thinning. Daring to tempt fate, Hope gave into her vampire self and tried to figure out where to go from there since the blood was becoming thinner against the water that was coming up from an underground spring up ahead. She followed her nose and looked off to the right, seeing some torchlight and a well of blood coming over the dry part of the riverbed pebbles. Angel's blood wasn't coming from the well, but was coming from that general direction.

The fresh water was coming from up ahead and she forced back the demon, grateful when the water became colder and clearer, feeling the blood run off her skin and join the rest of it.

The foursome behind her followed her move and started to clean themselves off in the spring of fresh water. Hope let her hair down and let it be rinsed by the gurgling water. Some of it had dried on her scalp and she grimaced as the water loosened it, streams of it washing away.

She waded through the clean water, rinsing out her mouth from the tempting blood. She crawled out of the water slowly, her body pressed firmly against the pebbles and creeping forward slowly. She remained still as a demon walked past, the incline of the dry riverbed offering her some protection from being spotted.

_Ready? _ she asked those behind her, most of the blood gone from their bodies.

Their faces nodded in the dim torchlight and Hope brought her sword up near her face, wanting it ready for whatever she couldn't see.

She climbed the rest of the way up the riverbank and dashed to a rock and took cover behind it, her ribs yelling at her for the quick motion. She eyed the cavernous area, a certain beauty formed by the stalactites and stalagmites. They were thousands of years old, to be sure, and some formed columns they were so old and thick.

The others crept up next to her and they waited, trying to see if there were any foes they couldn't dispatch easily.

_Weapons ready?_

They all said yes in some form or another. Without giving them a chance to consider the options, she charged and landed a blow, decapitating the nearest demon. It fell quickly. The only noise being the impact afterwards.

_Hope!_ Michael yelled to her.

She turned to look at him when another being attacked her. Her face turned over and she was thrown to the ground from the impact. She felt the demon trying to choke her, knowing that if it did the others wouldn't stand a chance. Wrapping her hands around its neck, she twisted. The head limped and cracked. She shoved the carcass off herself, standing up.

_Are you okay?_ Gunn walked up to her.

She nodded, her face remaining the way it was.

She looked down to the pebbled floor, seeing a trail of fresh and old blood meeting up with the well behind her. She took a whiff to find it was Angel's. She followed it. She walked into an adjoining cavern and stopped dead.

"Angel?" she broke the golden rule and rushed forward, her anger taken out on the demon standing watch.

She ignored the lingering presence of the First and changed her face to her human side and ran up to Angel, dropping her sword. At her touch, he opened one of his swollen eyes.

"I'm here. I'm here," she held his face in her hands for a moment.

"Aww, how sweet," her own voice quipped.

Hope turned to look at the First, feeling somewhat threatened by seeing her demonic visage staring back at her.

The others made their way next to her, Fred's face pale and her eyes darting from the visage of Hope to Angel's crucified figure. Blood was draining from his wounds.

"We're gonna take Angel and we're gonna leave," Michael said.

The faux Hope eyed him with yellow eyes, "You'll leave, that I know. But Hope...now there's a crisis."

Hope eyed her enemy, her eyes dim and hooded. They'd been in the caves for too long. The drain had been slow but steady, her strength and speed and grace being torn from her.

"So, what now? An epic fight to the death—your death? We both know how that goes. It seems you never win. Go ahead, claim your demon champion. See how far you get once I sic my demon hordes against you," It smiled.

Hope took a step forward, "I'll make a deal with you."

Her copy smiled, fangs bared, "Go on."

"You let Angel and the others go. We fight. If I can get myself out of here, you let me go."

"Hope!" Fred stared at her, agape.

"Hmm, interesting proposition. So, we fight and they go? No matter which way you turn it, they get to go free...whether you live or die. Seems kinda one-sided, don't you think?" It asked her.

Hope backed away from the First, "Think about it: the chance to get rid of me? Once and for all? You can't pass that up. Take it or leave it."

The First changed shape and became Angelus, the fangs elongating slightly. He swiped at her and she was thrown aside, her head hitting the cavern wall first.

"Get Angel out of here!" she yelled at the others.

Fred ran over to her.

"Fred!" Gunn tried to follow her but Michael pulled him back.

"We need to get Angel down from here. She'll be fine—the First can't touch her," he said desperately, knowing Hope was relying on them to save Angel.

"I'll take it," Angelus laughed as he walked joyfully up to Hope's limp and bruised figure.

Hope stood shakily and landed one solid punch at Angelus before he grabbed her and lifted her from the dry riverbed. She gagged, trying to gain some leverage and keep her airway open but with little success.

Across the cavern, Michael and Wesley yanked at the spike in Angel's feet, the partially healed skin tearing again as they ripped the spike free.

Angel bellowed in fresh pain and then sank back into vertigo, his head hanging down.

"Now his hands," Michael said, readying himself to catch Angel as he fell when Gunn and Wesley pulled out the last two spikes.

They did and the sound of tearing muscle and flesh was sickening and blood spattered as Angel fell forward into Michael's arms. Michael shifted under the weight and he and Wesley propped him up as Gunn kept an eye out for any unwanted visitors.

They made their way to the bloody river, skidding down the steep incline of the old riverbed and feeling the cold spring water give way to the warm, dense blood.

* * *

Angelus placed his palm over Hope's heart, the bloodied sports bra offering no protection. Hope yelped as a blinding light tore at her from the First's palm, digging into her chest and infecting her heart.

Fred tugged at Hope, trying to do what she could.

The combined strength of the two of them pulled Hope away from the faux Angelus' grip, landing her hard on a stalagmite. It scraped her, drawing more blood.

Hope felt her powers, what little there were left, drained. Her last breath of godliness was pulled from her rudely, offering her no compensation. She lashed out at the First, nailing Angelus in the groin and smiling inwardly as he doubled over in pain momentarily.

Then It assumed Fred's shape and was no longer burdened by the pain. Fred helped Hope up and tried to get her to move. Hope's body didn't want to cooperate.

The fake Fred hit Hope from behind and she was forced face-first into the pebbled floor, wincing as she tried to understand what had been done to her. She rolled over on her back and watched as the First tried to nail her in her gut. She rolled to one side, the First's fist landing in the pebbles.

"Come on, Hope," Fred tried to help her up.

The other Fred smiled and kicked Hope clear across the cavern, her body hitting a stalactite as she started to descend. It crumbled under the impact and Hope was lost to vertigo for a moment.

* * *

"We need to get Hope and Fred outta there," Gunn said, not wanting to go any further.

Michael looked behind him, then at Wesley, "Fine. You two go on ahead. I'll go back for them," he said strongly, then handed his half of the weight over to Gunn.

He waded through the thinning bloodied stream and desperately hoped that Hope had kept herself alive and would continue doing so until he arrived. But what he could do, he didn't know. He was as powerless as the mortals when it came to the First.

* * *

Fred watched helplessly as Hope was picked up and thrown again just as she started to regain consciousness. She landed hard, bones cracking and blood spilling upon impact.

Hope managed to get herself up on all fours as the First assumed Wesley's figure and advanced on her. He paused slightly when Hope snarled at him, her vampire face threatening and her eyes bloodshot red. With demonic and renewed strength, Hope lunged at the First and nailed him, forcing him down onto the cavern floor and landing punch after punch to his face, new blood getting on her bruised knuckles.

He grabbed her fists and kicked her head over heels to land on her back, her burst of strength gone and taking with it all traces of what she really was.

Her vampiric face stayed in place as the demonic Wesley advanced on her again, ready with a smile and a punch to cripple her. Fred screamed as the visage of her trusted friend broke Hope's leg with that punch and the crack and snap afterwards was deafening.

Hope grabbed instinctually at her wounded leg, tears falling from her red eyes.

The First picked her up and threw her across the cavern again, smiling as she hit another stalagmite on her way down. Fragments of limestone embedded themselves in her purple and blue abdomen; one of her ribs poked through and stuck out like a scar on her bruised and discolored skin.

"You really thought you were a match for me, Hope?" Wesley asked haughtily.

Hope just eyed him, blood seeping from a million different cuts on her face, her red and yellow eyes resigned and blood draining from her mouth onto the pebbles.

"Fred, go," she choked out, blood spewing from her mouth.

"No, I won't leave you!"

"Go! You have to take care of Angel."

Fred looked between the fake Wesley and Hope, not wanting to leave but knowing she was no help to Hope.

Hope yelped out again as the First picked her up and propped her above It's head, ready to throw her down onto a stalagmite. Hope didn't bother trying to struggle. Her bones were broken almost as bad as her spirit and whatever the First had done to her had finally set in fully, making her feel so...mortal.

* * *

Michael climbed up the riverbed incline to see Hope bloodied and beaten, about to be impaled by the First.

Without thinking, he summoned all of his remaining power and strength and ran and dove, his form melding with Hope's. He felt her mind give way and his own took over, not registering the pain she was no doubt feeling.

He kicked the First and It dropped her body only inches from the pointed formation. He stood, feeling one of Hope's legs break even more under the weight.

"You can't stay in her body forever," The First said, smiling and understanding what had happened.

"I can stay in it long enough to kick your ass."

"Hmm, and how much damage will you do to her body while you try?" It asked, taking Michael's shape.

"She'll recover."

The Michael double landed a surprise punch to Hope's face, sending them flying backwards. The merged entity of Hope and Michael stood strongly, bones crunching and fracturing but none of the pain registering in Michael's brain.

"We're gonna leave. And you'll let us."

"Why? What threat do you pose?" his own voice asked him.

Michael smiled. Her talon-fist opened up and a fireball appeared. He threw. The First flew backwards. Michael tried to summon another one. But that was it. He'd gotten one shot before Hope's natural reserves were gone.

The First screeched and tore at Its own fake flesh trying to subdue the flames. Michael grabbed Fred and ran. They skidded down the riverbed. Michael looked up to see the First hovering at the top of the incline.

"Go. See if it does you any good," It allowed, then dissipated into a shadowy black and red devil-shaped figure that floated a moment above them, then was gone.

Perplexed by whatever the First meant, Michael took what victory was offered him and swam. He allowed himself to leave her body, knowing the flowing blood would support her weight.

* * *

Gunn waited with the bloodied and broken Angel for Wesley to pull the Element closer to the cave entrance when he heard the sound of labored breathing. He looked over his shoulder, grabbing a weapon just in case, and sighed in relief upon seeing Michael carrying Hope and Fred not far behind.

He caught sight of the bloodied pulp that had been Hope, her body torn and bruised and cut beyond recognition. Bone stuck out at all angles, protruding from her crimson skin and blood dripping from them.

"What happened?"

"She took on the First," Michael said calmly.

"You don't seem too worried."

"Once we get her out of this place, she should be able to heal herself. She'll be out of the woods."

The Element skidded to a halt only feet from the cave entrance and Wesley ran out of the car to help carry Angel.

Fred opened the bay doors and threw extra seats out of the SUV to make room for the two wounded beings. As they were loaded, Fred shivered involuntarily as she caught sight of Hope's vampiric face, bloodstained and demonic. She and Wesley stayed in the back with Michael as Gunn revved up the cold engine and took off.

"Why hasn't her face changed back?" Fred asked, eyeing the goddess.

"She has to be awake to change it...and to start healing herself. We can't be sure of anything until she regains consciousness," he said quickly, tearing up his shirt that he'd reclaimed at the edge of the river and tying up major cuts.

"Can you get us home quicker?" Wesley asked.

"Any help would be nice," Gunn said from the front seat.

Michael sighed, "I'm not up to full power...maybe."

"No maybes, Michael. We need to know," Gunn looked over his shoulder at him.

"Yeah. Stop the car. I can't do it if we're moving," he explained at Fred's questioning look.

They stopped and the threesome waited for Michael to work some miracle and get them home so they could take care of Angel and Hope. He concentrated hard, trying to think about the hotel. Unlike Hope, he could never just teleport. He needed to concentrate for fear of landing himself or others in the middle of a wall or upside down. Hope didn't need the minutes it took for him. She could just make it happen.

He felt the stale, indoor air of the hotel and opened his eyes to see the grand lobby.

"So, we're here. Now what?" Gunn asked, making his way to the stash of medical supplies they kept in the back office.

Michael eyed Hope, "We need to get her to a hospital."

"Like that?" Fred asked.

"In case you haven't noticed, Hope's face ain't exactly human. We can't take her to a hospital," Gunn said, coming back with supplies.

"I can change that. None of the nurses will ever know the difference—she can't do this without help," he looked between the three humans, hoping they'd understand his concern and abide his wishes.

"I'll call 911," Wesley said, moving away from Angel's body towards the phone.

Michael knelt down in next to Hope, placing a hand on her crimson forehead and trying to fulfill his promise. Fred gasped as she saw Hope's face change.

"Did you…?" she trailed off.

He shook his head, "No, it's just a glamour. Only mortals are affected by it. None of the nurses will be any the smarter," he explained.

Wesley hung up the phone and walked back over to the group, "It should only be a few minutes. What about Angel?" he looked to Michael.

He shrugged, "He'll be fine. He'll heal on his own."

"Let's hope this glamour don't wear off before Hope's outta there," Gunn sighed.

"It shouldn't. I'll keep it up as long as I have to," Michael took Hope's hand in his own.

"Why'd she do that, Mike? She knew she wasn't gonna win," Gunn asked, eyeing Hope.

"She didn't care."

"Do you think she'll wake up?" Fred asked.

"The First did something to her. I think It drained her. It could take a while before her powers are up to full strength again. That could be why she's not woken up yet. She'll get there. She has to."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Fred sat at Angel's bedside, the vampire sleeping motionlessly. With a blood-delivering IV giving him his strength, he remained still. Bandages and stitches covered most of his face and exposed chest. His bare chest showed his torture. Every rib was bruised as was skin above. Some bones struck out of place or had swelled to become giant purple cotton puffs. The holes in his hands had been sterilized and his legs had been reset inside casts. Burnt skin was covered with gauze and his bruised chest was still tender to the touch. His eyes were swollen and his lips were torn terribly, scabs forming on them.

Gunn walked in and handed Fred a soda can.

"Any change?" he asked.

She sighed and rubbed her face, "It's been fifteen hours, Charles. He should've woken up by now."

Gunn shrugged, "I called to check on Hope. Michael said she's not doing any better."

"What if she doesn't make it?"

"She'll make it. She's tough. She's lived through a lot worse the way Michael tells it," he sat down in a chair and pulled it closer to Angel's bedside.

Angel winced, his right hand twitching slightly. He licked his scabbed lips.

"Charles," Fred said, eyeing her friend and placing her soda can to the side, taking Angel's hand gently.

"Angel?"

Angel made a quick face of recognition without opening his eyes, "Gunn?" he asked. His voice was hoarse and barely audible.

"We're here, man. It's all over. You're safe."

Angel shook his head slightly, his movement breaking some scabs, "I...I saw you die."

"It wasn't me, Angel. We're all here; Me, Fred, Wesley...we're here."

Angel actually smiled, "I thought you were all dead."

Fred smiled, "Hope saved us."

As if realizing that Fred was there, he squeezed her hand, "Fred?"

"Yeah."

He licked his dry lips and smiled again, a tear draining out of his swollen eye. He swallowed hard, "I thought I'd lost you...a-all of you."

Fred took his hand to her lips and kissed it gently, "We're not leaving you any time soon."

Angel coughed harshly, blood draining from his mouth, "Wh-where's Hope?" he asked upon recovering.

"She's not doing much better than you," Gunn said simply.

"Is she here?" he asked.

"No. She's in an ICU at the hospital. She's in a coma," Fred explained further.

"Why?"

"She fought the First to buy us time. It didn't work out all that well."

"But...the First...It'll kill her."

"She stayed behind so Gunn and Wesley could get you out."

"Wesley? Where is he?" Angel asked, his grip on Fred's hand loosening.

"He's with Hope and Michael," Gunn said.

"Michael?"

"He helped save you...and Hope. Hope asked him for help and he came," Fred said, looking between the Angel and Gunn.

Angel coughed, "That's good," he said, his chest racking with pain.

Fred closed her two hands around his bloodied one, "Everything'll be all right, you'll see. You'll get better and when Hope comes around she'll be able to heal herself really quick. It'll all go back to normal."

"Normal being the daily grind without torture."

"I see someone's awake," Wesley said as he walked in, a tired smile on his face.

"Just came to," Fred smiled, still holding Angel's hand.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'll tell you later," Angel jested, his eyes starting to open, being nothing more than slits at the moment, "How's Hope?" he asked eagerly.

Wesley tried to appear confident, "She's still comatose but her injuries aren't severe enough to propose any major problems. She could come around any minute."

Angel's hopeful face fell slightly, "She's dying, isn't she?"

Wesley licked his lips, "Yes. There is the concern that...if she doesn't regain consciousness...she won't be able to heal herself."

"Can Michael do anything?"

"He doesn't have Hope's ability to heal...in any way, shape or form. She's on her own." "I need to see her," he tried to sit up and saw the makeshift IV in his hand. As he reached for it, Fred stopped him.

"You need to get better. You're legs are still broken."

"I need to see Hope."

"Angel, you can't do anything for her now. You need to heal first," Wesley said.

"No."

"You have to wait."

Still shaking his head, he lost his resolve as pain hit him. Fred kept a hold of his hand as he sank back into vertigo. She looked to Gunn, then to Wesley.

"What if she dies before he's well?"

"She's not going to die," Wesley answered.

"How do you—?"

"She's not going to," he said again, walking out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Standing in Angel's room, they all eyed each other. Michael had come back from the hospital. Angel, still bruised and weak, was recovered enough to sit in his chair. His legs had started to heal but still he wasn't fully able to walk. Understanding Michael's report on Hope, he held his head in his hands.

"This isn't your fault," Fred said.

Angel eyed her, his swollen eyes now back to normal and most of his wounds—the smaller ones—healed, "I need to see Hope. We need to save her."

Michael sighed, "There's nothing we can do, Angel. We can't force her to wake up."

"Have any of you tried?" Angel asked harshly, eyeing his companions, "We can't just give up on her. I am not about to let her rot in a coma."

"Angel...she's barely keeping herself alive. She's degenerating faster than any of us thought possible. She can't start the healing process unless she's conscious," Wesley reiterated what they'd gone over a hundred times in the last few days

Angel took a moment to control his needed and wanted outburst, then sighed heavily, "What about Gwen? Has anyone tried to get her in there?" he asked.

"This isn't like jumpstarting a Chevy, Angel. A shock of electricity isn't going to bring her back like it did me," Gunn reminded him.

"I'll talk to the Old One, see if He can arrange anything to help us out," Michael said thoughtfully, "But Hope made this choice knowing what could happen. It was her call," he turned and walked out of the room, his sadness following him like a shroud.

* * *

She was pale. Her skin had always had a silver sheen to it and was as white as ivory, but she always seemed so healthy. Now, there was no color in her cheeks, no vivacious attention in her eyes. She just laid there, old blood dried on her face and arms, wounds unable to heal themselves at all and slowly draining precious blood.

Her vampiric face was a start to him, but he'd been told everything that'd happened in the caves. How no mortals could see her for what she truly was at the moment. To him, she still looked just as beautiful as ever. Both of her hands had needles going into them, delivering vital life-sustaining fluids. The cardiac monitor thumped mechanically in the corner of the room and he watched her chest rise and fall to its rhythm. The tube delivering oxygen to her passed under her nose. Most of her was covered under the blanket that was stained and replaced several times a day.

Angel took her hand gently.

He kept himself at her bedside, thinking she would wake up if only she had a reason to. He wouldn't give up on her.

He held her hand at his lips and kissed it gently, the bruised knuckles disconcerting, "Come on, Hope. You've gotta wake up," he said quietly.

She just lay there.

"You don't get to go out like this. Not on my watch. You're better than this. You said you were a god now prove it. Wake up. Be the reason. I need you to be the reason."

He wanted her to wake up. He imagined it so hard that he swore it would happen. But she just lay there, silent and broken.

Wesley walked in.

Angel knew it was him, "I can't lose her, Wes."

Wesley walked up beside him and stuck his hands in his pockets, "It's out of our hands, Angel. There's nothing any of us can do."

"You don't see her real face, do you?"

"No. Part of being mortal, I suppose."

"I thought I'd lost all of you. The First took your shape and Fred's...Gunn was murdered before my own eyes. It told me Hope had abandoned me. I had no reason to keep fighting, to keep my soul."

"Why didn't you? —give up?"

"Because I knew she wouldn't want me to."

Wesley sat in a chair next to Angel and sighed heavily, "When I died, before Hope got to me, I felt something. Something amazing and loving. Fred doesn't remember anything—but I do. I was the first one to die. I was dead longer. And I remember seeing my old house from when I was a young boy. I felt pristine and joyful, like nothing could go wrong. Like I was safe.

"Then there was a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look behind me and there was Hope...blanketed in white brilliance and radiating love. She looked at me and held out her hand. Her smile told me to take it. I took it and she led me home.

"And then there was pain, anger and remorse. I felt air rush back into my lungs. But she was still there, holding me and telling me it would all be fine. I could feel the love emanating from her and I held her like life itself."

"Do you regret leaving that?"

Wesley shook his head, "No."

"Do you think that's where Hope would go if she died?"

"I don't know."

"Five and a half million years of pain and suffering—she deserves to go there," Angel rambled, trying to face the possibility that anything could happen now.

Wesley nodded, "It's late—you should get some rest."

Angel scoffed, "That's the last thing I need."

Wesley smiled at that and stood as Angel kissed Hope on the knuckles and started to leave the room. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead, knowing what she really was and finally understanding Angel's passion for her.

She inhaled deeply and her eyes remained closed but Wesley could see movement under the lids.

"Angel," he said inaudibly, afraid to speak for fear he would take the chance of ruining this one glimmer of hope.

Angel turned to look and just stared for a moment, then walked closer to Hope again and took her by the hand.

"Hope?"

"Angel?"

"I'm here."

"Am I back? Am I home?"

"Yeah. You're home."

"It was dark…I…I was so afraid."

"There's nothing to be afraid of now. You're home," he assured her, placing a hand over her forehead and rubbing her temple.

"Home?" she asked.

"Yeah. And we're gonna take care of you," he promised her.

* * *

Lying still in her bed, Hope surveyed her hospital room. It had been eons since she'd been in one. She could vaguely remember being sick with pneumonia in mortal form as a child, but that passed quickly once she was hospitalized.

Michael walked in. Although visiting hours were over, he was still with her. She smiled thinly. He handed her a cup of cocoa and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers across her forehead to pull away stray hair.

"The others got home okay."

She sipped at the cocoa, "Thanks."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm still stuck in a deep sleep."

"It'll pass."

"I wasn't in some coma, Michael. Whatever that place was…it wasn't peaceful."

"What do you mean?"

"I felt like I was in hell. Like I was trapped by the First."

He kissed her on the forehead, "You're safe now. You're home."

She nodded unconvincingly. He inhaled deeply as she put aside the hot drink. Wrapping her arms around her chest insecurely, she eyed nothing.

"I should get going."

Her eyes met his, "Why?"

"Because you don't need me here anymore."

Silence for a moment, "No. I don't"

Taken aback, he paused, "I guess that's settled then."

"I'm not fourteen, Michael. I appreciate what you've done, but it's not your job to protect me."

He smiled, pained, "Silly of me to think so."

"I can't get on with the mission if you keep holding me back."

He stood from the bedside and nodded, "Okay, then."

"Okay."

"I'll let you get on, then."

He walked out briskly. Hope watched him go. Although her body still hurt and her wounds weren't completely healed, she felt something fester in her gut. That feeling consumed her. Watching him leave, she smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Hope eyed the living room of her apartment and felt cold. The fact that it was almost ninety degrees outside didn't matter. She crossed her arms over her chest and just looked around, feeling cut off from her surroundings.

Angel, Fred, Wesley and Gunn walked in behind her. Angel smiled, "You're home, Hope."

"It doesn't feel like home," she said coldly, staying where she was and surveying the place with a scrutinizing eye.

"You were gone for a while. Maybe it'll just take some time," Fred smiled, walking up next to her.

Hope faced them all suddenly, her arms still crossed against her chest, "Can we go somewhere? I need to be out."

Angel nodded, "Yeah. Sure."

"Where do you want to go?" Fred asked.

"I don't care. Some bar."

Angel nodded again, "Not a problem."

She walked out of her apartment without looking any of them in the eyes.

* * *

Angel sat there, watching Hope from behind. She was sitting right next to him, facing away, and yet she wasn't there at all. Her request to get out of the apartment was simple. She wanted to be around a crowd. In some ways, it made sense. She'd been alone, in a hospital, for a good deal of time. Wesley and Gunn were getting drinks at the bar. Fred was sitting across from him. She, too, noticed Hope's distance.

"Is this place okay?" she asked.

Hope didn't spare her a glance, "Yeah."

Wesley and Gunn walked back over with the drinks. Hope had asked for a Dirty Shirley. Fred got water, Gunn and Wesley got beer. Angel knew they didn't have what he wanted. This wasn't one of those bars. Gunn placed Hope's drink in front of her and she remained fixated on nothing. He waited for some response.

Angel put his hand on her shoulder.

She jumped and almost knocked over her drink. She blinked and took it up in her hands, "Thanks."

"No problem."

"At least the music's decent," Fred smiled, watching the band.

Hope took a sip without mixing and put the drink back down. She was still staring at nothing. The band was switching between fast techno and a slow mix. It wasn't what Angel considered decent. The others appreciated it, even Wesley to a certain extent. But Hope was indifferent. She picked up her drink and took another gulp, mostly of the vodka.

She got up. Angel watched her saunter across the room. She made her way through the light crowd. With her side to him, she started to dance. But she wasn't dancing alone. She pressed herself up against a young male. He had blonde hair and was only a few inches taller than her. She pulled his arms around her as she swayed her hips, keeping her back pressed against his front.

Angel's jaw worked.

Fred eyed Hope incredulously, "What is she doing?"

No one wanted to answer. Angel kept his eyes on her. She was rocking her shoulder, leaning to one side so their lips brushed. Her other hand reached up to his cheek. She wrapped her arm around his neck backwards. He trailed his fingers down her curves.

"We should go," Wesley said, looking directly at Angel.

Angel started to get out of the booth. Wes reached across the table, knowing he wasn't planning on leaving.

"It isn't worth starting anything."

He crouched there, half in and half out of the booth. Gunn was staring at him. So was Fred. Wesley was looking between Hope and him.

She was still swaying, letting that man touch her hips and curves. She turned to face him, running her hand up under his shirt. They almost touched lips. He was running his fingers through her curls, cupping her cheek and stroking her lips with his thumb. She took his hand.

They left the dance floor. She started towards the exit. She was leading him out. She looked to Angel and cocked a sultry, tempting eyebrow before passing out of sight.

Angel sprang from the booth before the others could say anything. He didn't know what Hope was doing, but he knew he wouldn't allow it. Storming out of the door, he looked both ways. Seeing them ducking into the alley, he followed. He didn't care that the others were trying to calm him down. Just the thought of another man putting his hands on her made him angry. Let alone the fact that she'd instigated it. He turned down the alley and saw them. She was pressed against the wall and he was at her neck and jaw, kissing her.

Angel tore him away from her. The man fell to the cold asphalt and got to his feet. He started to run down the alley.

When he faced Hope, she reached into his jacket. She brushed his skin, made him shiver. She pulled out a stake. Facing back down the alley, she threw it. It hit its mark. The young man, a vampire, crumbled into dust. Angel stared between her and the pile of dust. Her face was cold, apathetic. Their eyes met and she was blank. No emotion, no love. Brushing past him, she walked away. He was left there, standing where she'd been. He turned to watch her go. She walked past his friends. They, too, had seen what she'd done. He stayed there, frozen by unbidden emotion. The others walked up to him.

"Angel?" Fred asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It was a vampire."

"She's heading back to the apartment," Wesley said, watching her.

"You guys go home," he started after her.

"Angel, maybe you should leave her alone for the night," Fred said.

He paused. Then he started after her again.

He got to the main road to see her nowhere in sight. She might've ducked away and teleported herself, unwilling to walk the next seven blocks. But if she went anywhere, it would be her apartment. He ducked into the next alley and scaled the wall. He could get there faster if he didn't hide what he was.

* * *

He knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again. The door opened and she was standing there. Without saying a word, she walked away. He walked in after her, closing the door behind him. The Jack Daniels was sitting out on her server. She picked up her glass and drank another sip. He watched her for a moment. She ignored him, standing over the server and drinking.

"Why did you do that?"

"I killed a vampire."

"You know what I'm talking about."

She put her glass down. She stared at him with bedroom eyes. He knew that look. But that wasn't what he came for. He let her saunter closer.

"Why? Did it burn? Make you hot? Make you feel?"

She walked behind him, running her fingers across his side.

He pushed down the heat from his gut, "What are you trying to prove?"

"What are you trying to claim? Me? I'm a god. You can't lay claim to me," she ran a finger down his back.

"I didn't think I had to."

She whispered into his ear, "Does it sting? Is your mind racing? You know what I can do. You want it. More than anything, you want it. You tell yourself it's wrong but deep down you can feel that hunger."

Her hand was on his back behind his heart. She tensed it. He could feel her power run through him. He gasped. Then he pulled away, turning to face her. He could feel the aftershocks of her power. It sent shivers down his back.

"This isn't how I want you. Whatever you're going through, I can help. But you have to stop doing what you're doing."

She rolled her eyes, "Always a champion. You liked watching."

His eyes narrowed, "Don't flatter yourself."

She gave a low chuckle, "If I'd known you'd like it so much, I'd have done my sexy dance well before this."

"Who said I liked it?"

She didn't say anything. She walked into the kitchen. He stayed behind, knowing full well what he was feeling. It was jealousy and lust. Seeing her entice a complete stranger, even if it was for a kill, made him hungry for her. He'd felt her once under him. It had left a craving he'd never felt before. Beyond all sense and logic, it was more than he could control. Even if that first time had been a mistake, it was a mistake that was constantly calling to him.

She realized he was staring at her before he did. He straightened. He walked closer, feeling the heat on her skin. It was unbearable.

"What if I did like it?" he asked, leaning into her.

"You tell me."

He kissed her. Vigorously. Pressing her against the counter, he kissed her. He ran his hand down her curves. She pulled her weight up onto the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist. He wasn't just kissing her. She was kissing him. She was fueling him. She was making his heart beat. She was sending power through him. And he couldn't tear away from her.

She bit him.

It took a moment for the realization to sink in. He pushed her off him. She almost fell. He watched her face turn back into a human's. It startled him. She regained her balance and licked the blood from her lips. He held onto his bleeding neck.

"Hope…"

She ignored his words and came closer. She kissed him. He could taste his own blood on her lips and tongue. But it didn't matter. None of it did. He didn't care why he was giving in or how or what it meant. He just wanted to feel her. He picked her up again and she straddled him around his waist. He carried her to her bedroom, stopping along the way to press her into the threshold. She continued to kiss him. He could feel her bare skin tingle with power as she ran her hands under his shirt.

He landed her on the bed, bracing himself over her. She yanked his shirt open while he leaned down to kiss her jaw. Her skin was too soft to resist. He knew it wasn't love. He knew it didn't matter. Her flat palms pressed against his chest, sending more ecstatic power into him. He could breathe. He could feel his heart beating. He felt alive and awake more now than he ever had. They continued to kiss.

She pulled away from his lips, "Angel, stop."

He pulled back and stared her in the eyes, "What's wrong?"

She looked confused; her eyes darted from him to nothing, "I don't…I don't…"

"Hope?"

"Get off!"

He didn't have a chance. Her power sent him flying backwards and all of her influence was torn from him. He landed against the vanity. The mirror shattered and he felt his shoulder pop out. He yelped. Staying hunched at the base of the dresser, the chair cracked beneath him, he watched Hope stand unsurely. She looked around.

"Hope?"

Her wild eyes darted to him, "Who…who are you?"

He stood, ignoring his shoulder, "It's me, Angel."

She put her hands to her head over her ears. She rolled her head to one side, bringing her shoulder up to her hand. He touched her. She brought her hands down violently, pushing his away. She backed away from him. Her bottom lip was quivering. She wasn't looking at him but inwards at herself.

"You don't touch me. This isn't real."

"Hope, talk to me."

"This isn't real. This isn't real this isn't real this isn't real."

He touched her again. She stopped rambling and her eyes met his. Her brow furrowed and her eyes started to overflow.

"Hope. I'm here."

"What's happening to me?"

With his one good arm, he embraced her. She cried. She buried her face into his chest and she cried. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to help her. So he just let her cry. He ignored his dislocated shoulder and held her with the other arm.

"Shh, we'll figure this out."

"I don't want to go away again."

His brow furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

She looked up to him, "I don't know."

She started crying again. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, keeping her close. She slowed her heaves, her tears weren't as fast. She remained buried in his chest. He stroked her back, hoping she wouldn't throw him across the room. He knew she was a god. But she'd never used that against him. He'd never felt her powers that way. She hadn't just thrown him off and away. It had hurt. His insides had burned. His head still pounded and his shoulder still throbbed.

She pulled away from him slowly, moving towards the corner. He stared at her back.

"You should go."

"I don't want you to be alone."

"I'm needy. You're willing. And I just threw you across the room like a rag doll," she turned to face him. She took notice of his limp shoulder and arm, "I'm sorry."

"I'll pop it back in later."

She walked over and put a hand to it. Without pain or shock, it slipped back into the socket. He rolled it once to feel it out. It didn't hurt. This was the power he wanted to feel. It was more than divine. It was warm and loving. She took her hand away and looked to him.

They both leaned in.

She caught herself.

He realized she wasn't there and pulled back. Her tired eyes looked away, "You really should go."

"I'll stay. Just until you fall asleep."

She nodded.

She climbed under the covers. He sat in the chair next to the bed. Curled up on her side, she stared at him. He stared right back. She pulled the covers up to her chin. Their eyes still held fast onto one another.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Wesley walked in carrying a newspaper. He looked up for a moment and caught sight of Angel, sitting in his office. He walked over to the office and opened the door.

"Angel? You're here early."

"So it seems."

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything's gone to Hell."

"I assume you're referring to Hope?"

Angel stood, "It's nothing you need to know about."

"If you're this upset over nothing, I'd like to know what that nothing is."

"I don't want to involve you guys in it. It's between me and Hope."

"Did you two get in a fight?" Wesley asked, suddenly taking notice of a piece of gauze over Angel's lower neck.

Angel looked at Wesley with haunting eyes, "No."

"She bit you, didn't she?" he assumed. At Angel's questioning glance, he added, "The gauze on your neck tends to give it away."

Angel placed his hand over the gauze and swallowed hard, "She's not herself."

"Her behavior last night was questionable. What happened after we left?"

"She was fine one minute. The next…it was like she forgot who she was. Who I was."

"Do you know what set her off?"

Angel shrugged, shifted, "We were…We were in the bedroom and then she forgot everything. It was like she was a different person."

Wesley lowered his voice, "Could your…interaction…with her have made her change?"

Angel shook his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek "She said something about being in a bad place. When she woke up...she said something about it being dark—and that she was afraid."

"I doubt that being in a dark and scary place would've changed her so drastically."

"There're too many variables. She had to save you and Fred, she had to face down her inner demon, she had to fight the First, she was in a coma...so many things could've gone wrong at any time to make her like this."

"I think we need to confront Michael. He may know more than we do."

"Hope won't willingly lead us to him. And I don't know how to contact him or even where he is," Angel rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"He did take off rather quickly once Hope regained consciousness. Do you think something happened between them?"

"I don't know."

Gunn walked in, "Hey, all. Why the sad faces?"

Angel straightened, "I'm just worried about Hope."

"Why? Gal did a sexy dance. I thought it was kinda hot."

"Don't say that."

Gunn eyed Angel, "Why? It was pretty hot."

"Don't talk about her like that."

Gunn's eyes went a little wide. He looked between the down-faced Wesley and the defensive Angel. The picture formed in his head, "Oh. She's yours now. Gotcha. How yours is she?"

"She's not mine, okay?"

"When did you two have the chance and why ain't you evil?"

"That's not the point. The point is that Hope is off her game."

"Maybe she's just freaked out. A gal like her, she might just be upset that she got beat."

Angel sighed, "Maybe. But she's not the same."

"She's a god. Maybe she's going through some god-hormonal-time thingy."

* * *

The atrium was eerily silent as Gunn, Wesley and Lorne checked up on accumulating cases from the past week and a half. The double doors opened and Wesley turned to see Fred walk in.

"Where's Hope?" she asked as she laid the box of doughnuts on the reception counter.

"I don't think she'll be coming in today," Angel said.

"Speaking of—are you sure you're up to working on a case? You still seem a little...disoriented," Lorne eyed him.

"I'm fine. I had time to recover. No problem. Besides, Hope healed me," Angel looked at a file trying to avoid eye contact with the empath.

"How is the little princess?" Lorne asked with a smile.

"I think she's still upset about being kicked around by the First."

"She tried to kick It's ass but—" Fred started.

"I failed miserably," Hope said sadly as she walked in from outside.

Angel nearly dropped his folder and turned to eye her as she came in. She seemed almost back to normal, besides her heavy and somber voice. She was dressed cheerily enough and seemed to have recovered the bounce in her step.

A flash of what had happened last night came to his mind. He tried to push it away and failed, still eyeing her in concern as she walked closer to the group.

"Well, it's good to see you up and about," Lorne hugged her.

She allowed the hug but was quick to disengage from it. She licked her lips and cleared her throat, "So, any good cases?"

"A few came in while you two were in la-la-land. Nothing outrageous. A few demon pop-ups and a nest or two," Gunn kept an eye on her.

"I call first dibs on the nest," Hope said nonchalantly.

"You're not coming with us," Angel said strongly, his voice startling everyone.

Hope and he locked eyes. She pressed her lips together in restrained anger, "Why not?" she asked, the tone and implication the same as it had been last night.

Angel walked out from behind the reception counter and made his way closer to Hope, not wanting to but knowing he had to, "Hope, whatever you're going through, I can help. We can all help. But you have to let us know what's wrong and you have to stop acting like everything's okay," he came within an arm's length of her.

"You don't know what I went through."

"Then tell us. Tell me."

"I can't explain it."

"Try."

"Hope, if something's wrong, we're more than willing to help you."

She looked down at her fidgeting hands, "I keep leaving. Losing time. I open my eyes and I'm not where I remember being last. And when I'm gone…it's like a black hole."

"Do you think it's psychological?" Wesley stepped forward.

"I don't know. What's happening to me?"

"We'll figure it out," Angel promised her.

"How?"

"It's what we do," Fred smiled.

"Listen, why don't we go back to your apartment? You should rest," Angel searched for her eyes.

She shook her head and pulled away, "No. You need to stay. You've got a job to do."

"It can wait."

"I'll be fine."

"I don't want you to be alone."

"I'll go with her," Wesley volunteered.

Angel looked over his shoulder at Wesley and nodded, "Yeah, let Wes take you home," he looked back to her, "I'll come see you as soon as we get done with the nests, okay?"

She nodded, "I'd like that."

"We'll figure out what happened and we'll set it right. I promise," he smiled wanly as Wesley walked up next to him holding the keys to his SUV.

Hope and Wesley walked off towards the double doors. Angel watched her go, knowing she was in good hands. He turned and looked at Lorne, Gunn and Fred.

"We need all references to the First and any powers it may have. Lorne, I need you to pull in whatever favors you have and get me in contact with Michael," he instructed.

"Why do you want to see Michael?" Fred asked.

"He knows Hope better than any of us. He may know what's going on," he admitted.

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?" Wesley asked as he drove to Hope's apartment.

She just stayed curled up in the passenger seat, "No."

"I...I wanted to talk to you, actually."

"About what?"

"About what happened when you brought me back...from the dead," he felt awkward saying it like that, thinking it would jinx him in some ridiculous way.

"I know what happened, Wes. I'm omniscient, remember?"

"I know you know. I just wanted to thank you for not saying anything to Fred. I don't think she could handle it. I had a question about what I saw…"

"Yes, Wesley. It was heaven. One version of it, anyway. A soul is transported back to the place they were happiest. That's why no one ever really comes back from there. There are exceptions, of course. You being one of them," she sounded so calm and undisturbed about the topic and now turned her gaze out the window.

"You brought me back."

Hope took it as a fact, "Yes, I did."

"No, I mean, you gave me the reason to come back. I could see...everything...and now I know what Angel sees in you. The power, the love. It was all right there but...invisible. I could feel it and it felt better than what was in front of me."

Hope looked at him, "I wish I could see myself the way you do."

Wesley made no comment to that and pulled into the parking garage of Hope's building. They took the elevator up to the top and Hope took out her key to open the door. Her apartment had enthralled Wesley. It felt like a sanctuary of peace and love and the view was spectacular.

"Do you want me to make you some tea?" he asked, eyeing a crystal over the patio doors that caught the early morning rays and sent rainbows flying about the white living room.

She shook her head, "No, thanks. I'm gonna get changed. Make yourself at home."

Wesley walked over to the fridge and caught sight of crimson blood against the pale tiles. Without even asking, he knew it was Angel's blood. A trail of blood drippings led from the large stain on the tile, across the living room rug and to the bedroom.

"Do you want me to clean this up?" he asked as she came out from the bedroom, a fresh pair of pajamas pants and a cami on.

She eyed him for a minute. With a wave of her hand, the stain and all evidence of the bite had been erased, "There. It's clean."

"That's a nice trick. Does this mean you don't want to talk about what happened?" he asked, following her to the living room.

She plopped down on the leather couch and pulled a blanket over her bottom half, "I bit him. What else is there to talk about?"

"What else did you do, Hope? I know there's more."

"Morbid obsession with my love life doesn't give you a point."

"Well, being that Angel was obviously distressed at whatever happened, I don't think it should be pushed aside so easily."

She stood from the couch and walked towards her bedroom, "What do you care?"

"I care because Angel is worried about you and now so am I," he followed her into her bedroom.

She walked into her private bath and closed the door in his face, locking it tight. He exhaled sharply.

"You can't hide from this, Hope. You have to face it."

"Go away!" her muffled voice carried panic.

"Get it off your chest. You can talk to me!" he said loudly through the wooden door.

The door opened and she stood there, a definite change having come over her. She eyed him skeptically.

"You want to know what I did to him?" she asked, not letting him answer, "I do, too. I can't remember. It was a blur. It wasn't me. I wasn't here. I remember biting him. Then he was on top of me and I freaked out. I threw him off. I dislocated his shoulder. I don't know what happened in between."

Wesley licked his lips as the full image of what Hope had endured wedged itself into his mind. He looked down at the carpeted floor, not sure if he wanted to look her in the eyes.

She brushed past him and walked out to the kitchen, taking a bottle of Jack Daniels out from the cabinet. She uncapped it and took a long drink.

"I'm glad you told me, Hope."

She smiled sarcastically with her back still to him as he walked closer, "Why? It doesn't solve anything."

"I may not know you as well as Michael, but I'd like to think I know you as well as Angel does. And I know you don't like to keep things hidden, festering in your heart. I also know that you care a great deal about Angel and the feeling is mutual. And the fact that you hurt him is probably eating you alive, whether you want to admit it or not," he eyed her as she took another drink of the liquor.

"See, that's the problem, Wes. I don't regret it. And that scares me," she admitted, turning to look at him.

With a furrowed brow, he approached her, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

She laughed dementedly, "There's so much...and it hurts so bad...I can feel it all coming down around me, falling, plummeting, tumbling...and It...It is right there and I can't seem to get away. And I can feel It hurt me...feel It try to kill me," she started to cry.

What little sense he could make of the jumbled words wasn't important. What was important was that she was hurting and Angel wasn't there to comfort her. Feeling the line between friend and lover melt, he embraced her and she cried into his shoulder.

"It's always watching...calling me...haunting me and I can't get away," she sobbed.

"The First?"

"All evil...all death...I feel like I'm dying and losing everything as I get deeper into my own grave...I feel like I'm losing it all and I can't control it."

Wesley continued to hold her, feeling awkward and fulfilled at the same time, knowing she needed whatever comfort was available.

"What are you losing?" he asked, trying to discern more of what was going on inside her mind.

"...all slipping away and I can't—" she cut herself off as another powerful sob racked her chest.

"Shhh. Calm down. Don't think about it. Just get some rest," he said, holding her at arm's distance.

She nodded childishly and walked away towards her room. Wesley watched her close her door and then picked up her phone. He dialed the Hyperion. Angel picked up.

"Angel, I may know what's going on with Hope," he started before Angel even got to finish the slogan for the company.

Angel cut himself off, "What?"

"She's rambling about losing control of something. She said the First is haunting her." "So?"

"I think It did more damage than we know. It may have done something to her to make her like this," Wesley eyed the still closed door.

"Is she okay?"

"She's resting right now. But I think we should look into the First, see if It could have any control over Hope."

"Already on it. I've also got Lorne trying to find out how to get me in contact with Michael. Keep an eye on her and gimme a call if anything comes up."

"Of course."

* * *

Wesley walked into Hope's dimly revealed bedroom with a bed tray of a hot pot of tea and a cup with sugar packets.

"Hope?" he asked quietly.

He heard the almost unnoticeable beat of the shower turn off and her bathroom door opened and she walked out.

She was naked.

Wesley dropped the tray.

Hope quickly grabbed at her sheet and pulled it over her damp body. Her hair dropped water onto her shoulder and the carpeted floor.

"I'm sorry," Wesley started to kneel down and clean up the shattered porcelain.

"It's okay."

Wesley didn't glance up for fear of seeing her grace and, to his surprise, he watched the broken teapot and cup place themselves back together, no evidence of the trauma to be seen. The carpet was dried from the spilt tea and Wesley picked up the empty pot and cup.

"I'll go make some more," he said sheepishly, leaving the room.

Hope mentally dressed herself, tossing the damp bed sheet back onto the bed. She ran her fingers over her hair and, upon doing so, made it straight and dry, perfectly styled and ready to go. She eyed the bed sheet and it dried as well, her powers floating around out of sight.

She walked out to the kitchen.

Wesley didn't glance at her, just kept his eyes on the kettle and waiting for the water to heat up.

"I'm sorry, I should've knocked."

"You didn't do it on purpose. No harm done."

"It doesn't feel that way—no harm done."

"What do you mean?"

He smiled nervously and walked away towards the kitchen island, opening the glass jar of tea bags. Hope followed him and closed the jar mentally, his hand gently wedged under the lid.

"What do you mean?" she asked again, her eyes piercing his.

"I feel like...like you're…"

Hope smiled in realization, "When we were talking in the car...you weren't just telling me how I pulled you back...you were trying to tell me how you felt when I did it."

She let him take his hand out from under the glass lid, "It's wrong that I feel that way about you."

"Why?"

"You're with Angel."

"Wesley…there's something I should've told you guys when I first met you. About me. When I take human form…there's this whole joke about Aphrodite's girdle."

Wesley nodded, "Ah."

"Yeah. When I become corporeal, the new body tends to have a high amount of pheromones. So you don't have to feel guilty. I'm kinda used to it."

"Is that what Angel's experiencing?

Hope inhaled deeply, "Maybe. But for him…it's different."

"I see."

"We okay?"

He nodded, "Of course."

She smiled, picked out a tea bag and walked over to the boiling water. She poured her water and walked into her room.

Wesley watched her go and felt like he'd just betrayed Angel by walking in on Hope. He knew how much Hope meant to him and now...he was starting to feel the same way. There had always been a respect—an admiration—but it had never developed into anything more than that; even Hope's explanation didn't do anything to ease the guilt. Did nothing to make the lust go away. Was he just a slave to her new body? Or was there something more than he didn't want to acknowledge? He moved away, sitting on the couch and watching the sun catcher bathe the room with rainbows.

* * *

With Gunn at his side, Angel watched the vampire nest for a moment. Seeing the last straggler come in from the sewers to feed off the already deceased victim, he nodded. He and Gunn charged. Aiming a crossbow and nailing one vampire quickly, Gunn reloaded another bolt before firing and dusting another vampire. Angel went forward with his broadsword and took the head from one. From behind, a vampire lunged and Angel went down into the hard concrete. He could feel his brow bone flesh split and some blood trail down his face. With the vampire lying next to him, he flipped his wrist and the spring-loaded stake thrust out from his sleeve. He rolled and landed the stake in the dead heart of his foe.

Gunn ran in, tired of the crossbow, and pulled out a stake from his back pocket. He helped Angel up and then threw himself at the nearest vampire. Angel made a grab at his dropped broadsword and used it to block a blow from another vampire. With only four vampires left, he took a swing at the neck of one, hoping to nail more with the wide blow. The other vampires backed away from the swing. One kicked him in his ribs. Although Hope had healed him, he was still sore. His ribs yelled at him for the exercise and yet he continued on. But his mind was elsewhere. He had to wonder about Hope. What had happened to her? Why would she act that way?

"Angel!"

Angel didn't react in time to Gunn's warning and a heavy blow landed on his temple. He landed hard on the concrete and threw his blade forward as the vampire lunged. The head came off and Angel remained on the floor as Gunn finished off the last vampire.

"You okay?" he offered his hand and Angel took it.

"Yeah."

"Not paying attention, man."

"Thinking."

"About Hope?"

"About Hope."

"Well, we're done here. Last nest for the day. Go see her."

Feeling his sore ribcage, he tried to stand straighter, "Good idea."

* * *

Wincing with every step, Angel took out his spare key and opened up the door to Hope's apartment. Everything was neat and tidy and the evidence of what had happened last night was gone. He didn't see either her or Wesley.

He looked around the dividing wall to the kitchen and still saw no one, so he opened the door to her bedroom and smiled when he saw her sleeping comfortably and Wesley in a chair, asleep himself and his head lolling from side to side as he breathed.

He ignored the blood on his face and leaned over and kissed Hope on the forehead. Wesley woke up with a start.

"Angel?" he asked.

"Shhh," Angel kept his eyes on her, then walked out of the bedroom, Wesley following him. He sighed and put the spare key on the island.

"How did it go?" Wesley asked, eyeing the blood.

"Fine. I got here as soon as I could. How's she been?" he asked, still looking through the doorway at her as she slept.

"Touch and go, really. She was fine for most of the morning; she had a crying fit for an hour or so, mumbling about the First and losing control. I sedated her. She asked me to. She's been out for hours."

"What'd you sedate her with?"

Wesley smiled, "Benadryl. Children's dose. It knocked her right out. I didn't have any metaphysical sedatives. I thought a regular one would work. I was right," he looked at Angel's cheek and forehead wounds, "Want me to get some bandages?"

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks—for watching her."

"Of course."

"I'll stay with her again, see if we can't figure out what's going on."

"Any luck finding Michael?"

"Nothing. And we still have no idea what the First could be doing to her. There's almost nothing in the books we have."

"Then again, Hope isn't in any conventional texts. I'm sure the same could be for the First."

"Yeah. We're getting nowhere and she's not getting any better," Angel sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I know you'd rather not, but, what if Wolfram & Hart has something on It? It is the ultimate evil," Wesley waited for a reply.

Angel shook his head, "I already checked. Nothing. It's like It doesn't exist."

"It doesn't," Michael said, popping in silently behind Wesley and Angel.

They both turned to face him, "What do you mean?" Angel asked.

Michael mentally closed her bedroom door and took a step closer to them, "The First isn't in any written texts, in any large quantity, because It came before everything. Before there were words for evil."

"So we're stuck."

"The only way we could even try to get anything is by going to the source of all souls. The Record Keeper."

"The Record Keeper?" Wesley asked.

"It's a mystical reference file of every living thing—past, present and future—and what purpose they serve," Michael took an apple from the fruit basket and took a bite out of it noisily.

"Can you take us there?" Angel asked.

"Only non-humans can enter," he said, glancing at Wesley.

"That's fine. I'll stay here with Hope until you get back," Wes volunteered, looking between Angel and Michael.

"Take me there," Angel demanded.

"First, you need to clean up. We're meeting an all important entity—it wouldn't do to show up looking like that," he waved his hand and Angel felt all the blood cleaned away and he realized that he was now in a pressed pants, button-down shirt and jacket ensemble.

* * *

"This," he eyed the sewer manhole cover, "is the gate to the Record Keeper?" he asked incredulously.

"Don't joke. Now, when we get in there, keep your mouth shut. It doesn't take kindly to vampires…even one of your caliber. Let me do the talking and let me handle It, okay?" he eyed Angel.

"Lead the way," Angel said, watching as Michael took the plunge, head first, straight into the still-covered manhole. He went right through. Angel exhaled deeply and tested the manhole. To his surprise, it gave way and his hand went right through it.

Michael's hand reached up and yanked him down.

He fell flat on his face in a white, ethereal space, Michael standing and eyeing a small creature of some sort.

Angel stood.

"Record Keeper, something has come of the Young One. We must find her in the records," Michael said officiously.

The small creature, almost resembling a stereotypical alien life form, eyed Angel with the big, black, oval eyes. All in all, it was no more than three feet tall and was incredibly thin.

"You've bring a vampire into my presence!"

"He is unique. The Young One favors him."

"And what had you have me done for you now?" It asked, Angel noticing now that It had no real sense of proper grammar.

"The First did something to the Young One. We need to figure out what."

"I had check and see if the moment is to be remembered and will be recalled," It walked over to a large small puddle on the floor, "Where will it happened?" It asked as Michael walked closer to It.

"Central America, La Paz, the Hellmouth," Michael narrowed it down.

"Ahh, yes. Now I remembered. It will be a big battle she fought. I knew the fight will be in here."

"Why do you talk like that?" Angel asked, unable to contain himself.

"Silence, vampire! It had be wise for you to kept your mouth close," It hissed, returning to It's work after admonishing him.

"Here we were! I finding it from among the files," It smiled gleefully, taking a single drop of water and carrying it towards a flat stone that appeared. It let the droplet touch the stone and a movie-like projection of the scene started to unfold.

"This will show us what happened when she fought the First. If It did anything to her, we should be able to see it," Michael explained.

They watched.

"Stop it, right there," he pointed at the projection.

"I don't see anything," Angel admitted.

"Ahhh, the First touches her and took all she will be," the creature rubbed It's small hands together in accomplishment.

The scene slowed at the point Michael designated and Angel watched as the First, in his own shape, placed a flat palm on Hope and a great explosion of light and sound came from the contact.

"Whatever It did, that was when it started. Whatever's causing her problems now was formed when It touched her," Angel concluded.

"We just don't know what It did to her," Michael sighed.

The creature reclaimed the drop of water and placed it back into the puddle, smiling as it melded back with all the other moments in time.

"Record Keeper, we need information on the First. On what It can do to the Young One," Michael continued.

The creature shook its head, "No, this I couldn't do. There was too much time to saw. You have never go through it all. I do. I goes through it all. It takes a thousand years to saw all that will happen," It said sorrowfully.

Angel clenched his fists at his side.

"We need to know what It can do to the Young One," Michael reiterated.

"No, no, no. You have not see it."

Angel made a dash and grabbed the smaller being, bringing it up to eye level, "Damn it! Hope is getting sicker by the minute and we need to help her!" he yelled, allowing himself to change over into the face of a vampire.

The small creature smiled, "You has no idea what is happened. It goes to be worse. There is no Hope to saw, no Hope to saw and all the love is been took," it said in a singsong voice.

Michael sighed, "Come on, Angel. There's nothing more we can get from It," he admitted.

Angel let the creature down and resumed his human face.

"You feel loving. You felt paining. No more is you feeling," It called out after Angel as he and Michael ascended a white ladder.

They came up from the covered manhole and Angel sighed heavily, "That was all pointless," he quipped.

"Not entirely."

"We knew the First did something to her. That was worthless information."

"If you look at it from the surface," Michael leaned against a car and rubbed his chin, thinking.

"What do you mean?"

"The Record Keeper said there was no Hope to saw and all the love is been took."

"That makes no sense."

"Not in a linear sense, no. But the Record Keeper isn't liner. That's why his speech is all messed up. If all the love is been took, it would mean Hope has been stripped of something dear to her…something the First could take."

"It couldn't have been her powers. She healed us both after she came back."

"So, what else is dear to her?" Michael asked, hoping there was more than the one answer. "We need to get to Hope's apartment and see just what is going on. If the Record Keeper can't tell us, there's a definite problem," Michael said as he climbed into Angel's car.

"So, if the worse happens, what can we expect?" Angel asked, starting the car and driving off, eager to get back to Hope.

"Armageddon?"

"Well, that can't be a good thing."

"It never is. And as much as I completely loath you, I'll help because I love her—understand that. If anything goes wrong, I'm gonna help as much as I can."

Angel shot a glance at him, "That's good to know. And, as far as the loathing thing, the feeling's mutual. I think you're a stuck-up little demigod who can't get over a girl," Angel quipped.

"And I think you're a vampire with some wild delusions as to how important you are to her. I think you're addicted."

"Addicted to what?"

"Her power."

"That's a lie."

"Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you'll believe it."

* * *

"Wesley?" Hope asked groggily.

"I'm here," he said as he placed a cold washcloth on her forehead, "Are you comfortable?" he asked.

She winced, "No. I'm hot. It's all too hot."

He eyed the thermostat, "It's only seventy-four degrees in here. It's fine."

"No, it's all too hot. I'm...too...hot," she slowed her voice down and inhaled deeply. She smiled, reaching a hand up to his neck and pulling him closer to her, "You smell good," she said deliriously.

He backed away, not understanding what was going on with her. He swallowed hard and stood from the bedside, "I'll get you some ice water, then," he said.

He felt his body stop. He felt a tug like nothing he'd ever felt and was turned back towards Hope. She eyed him pathetically.

"I don't want you to go," she whimpered.

"Hope, stop."

She released him from her influence and sat up in the bed.

"Why don't you want me to go?"

"I want to talk."

He moved closer to her and sat down next to her, "About what?"

She seemed to become serious, "About Angel. About what he and I feel."

"Hope…"

"When I was in the coma, I realized something. I felt a person who had faith in me. And it wasn't Angel. It was you. You wouldn't give up on me and that called to me...brought me back. No one's ever gone that far before."

"You have feelings for Angel."

"How can I? He's not the man I need. I thought he was, but now I know it's you. I know. I can tell. And I know that you brought me back without knowing it, but you still brought me back."

"We can't be together, Hope."

"Why? Because of Angel?"

"You're with him."

"But I don't love him. I suppose I never did. It was just...a phase."

"Is that what I am? Just a phase?"

She smiled, leaning closer to him and whispering in his ear, "No, you're just a snack."

Wesley recoiled but felt her hand on his throat, gripping him and forcing him down onto the bed. He caught sight of her face and gasped when he realized she was wearing the demonic face, the face she'd worn in the caves.

With her fangs revealed and her lips curled into a smile, she held him down on the bed, sitting on top of him and rubbing her free hand against his lower abdomen.

"Hope, don't!"

"Why? I'm having fun and God knows this is what you dreamed about a million times over. Having me...being with me and seeing what Angel alone sees."

Her mind holding him down and rendering him powerless, she opened his shirt and kissed a trail down his chest, right to his pants. As pleasing as her touch and lips were, he feared for his life—she was mentally far-gone and could be deadly if she got the notion in her mind.

She nibbled at his ear, "This is the part where you scream," he caught her smile out of the corner of his eye.

She sank her fangs into his neck, piercing the jugular and letting the blood flow into her mouth, enjoying every single drop that came.

Wesley stifled a scream as he felt her fangs sink lower purposefully, piercing muscle and tendons and digging to cause him pain. Completely paralyzed by her mind, he could just lay there while she sucked on his neck, taking away his blood. He winced as he felt rivulets of blood sink down his neck, the ones she missed.

* * *

The door wasn't opening. Angel tried to ram it, but it wouldn't budge.

"This can't be good."

Michael moved him aside, "Let me try," he extended his hand and a blast of light and flame shot from it, hitting the door and disintegrating it. He walked through the smoking doorframe and eyed the place quickly.

"Hope!" Angel yelled out, walking towards the bedroom.

He stopped dead as he saw Hope on top of Wesley in a compromising position. Her mouth was at the far side of his neck. She was drinking from him.

He was passed out.

Without a second thought, he lashed out and kicked Hope off him and she tumbled off the bed onto the floor, propped up against the wall. She laughed and he was thrown backwards by her mind. He smashed into the mirror, shards of glass cutting through his leather coat.

Hope stood and eyed him and Michael, "Well, boys, I look forward to the chase. Let me know when you give up," she cocked an eyebrow and threw herself through the window behind her, vanishing into the darkness of the night.

"That's a thirty floor drop," Angel said, concerned but making his way towards the bloodied Wesley.

"It won't even slow her down."

Angel picked up Wesley and looked at Michael, "Can you teleport us to the hospital?" he asked.

Michael nodded and a moment later they were gone.

* * *

"So, Hope's evil now?" Fred asked, eyeing Wesley through the panel of glass.

"Whatever the First did to her, it took this long to manifest. And she obviously still has her powers," Michael said, his arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

"What are we going to do?"

"A vampire with Hope's powers? What can we do?" Gunn asked.

"She's not a complete vampire."

"What do you mean?" Fred asked.

"She was in the sun just this morning."

Michael shrugged, "Doesn't mean anything. With her powers, she could just be protecting herself from frying. And I doubt any of the traditional requirements for a vampire would apply."

"What, she can't be killed?" Gunn asked.

"Not likely. And, being what she is, we don't want to kill her. If she goes, the First wins. It knew that. What better way to win the battle than take out the opposing commander," Michael droned.

"So how do we stop her?" Fred asked.

"I'll have to put in some calls to the higher beings, see if we can't rally an army or some divine force to stop her, reverse whatever the First did."

"We don't even know _what_ It did," Gunn reminded them.

"It took something from her. Something she holds dear," Michael tried to think of what was taken.

"Her humanity," Angel spoke up, turning to look at Wesley.

"What?" Fred asked.

"The Hope we all know never would have done this. By removing her humanity, the First took her morals, her goodness...everything that makes her who she is. She took her sweet time drinking Wesley."

"How can you tell?" Gunn asked.

"The strength of the blood in the air. She'd been drinking from him for at least twenty minutes. Draw out the process, make it unbearable to the victim. When he passed out, she probably would've finished him off," Angel explained.

"You guys caught her in time," Fred sighed.

"She let us," Michael shook his head.

"What?" Gunn asked.

"She could've kept us both out of that apartment if she'd wanted to. She could've killed us as soon as look at us—no, she's enjoying this. It's all a game to her. And it's gonna get worse."

"We've seen her powers. At least we have some idea what to expect," Angel said.

Michael shook his head, "No. You haven't. Hope is modest. She would never let you see her prowess. Now, all bets are off and we have no idea what she's capable of."

"How bad can she be?" Fred asked.

Michael looked between Angel and her, "I've never seen her turn evil before. I don't know. But I doubt anything compares."

* * *

Hope dragged the corpse in and smiled as she laid it down in the now-completed pattern. She eyed the atrium of the Hyperion and smiled, knowing it would provide the perfect battlefield. But, until she was ready to fight, she would play.

* * *

"We'll check on Wesley in the morning, see how he's doing. For tonight, we'll all stick together," Angel said as he turned off the car and got out with Michael, Fred and Gunn.

"Why? What good will that do?" Gunn asked pessimistically.

"This way, when Hope kills you, you'll get buried faster," Michael quipped.

"No one is going to die. We'll figure out…" Angel trailed off as he stepped through the double doors.

They all stopped and Fred gasped, her hand over her mouth in disgust.

'Ready. Set. Go' had been spelled out on the atrium floor in bodies.

* * *

"Thirty-three. How symbolic," Michael said as he cleared the last body away, the blood going with it.

"Number of resurrection," Fred said aloud, still unable to look out at the floor even though there was no evidence of what had happened.

"It was Hope, all right," Lorne said, still queasy and taking a sip of his sea breeze. He'd been found in the office, gagged and bound and knocked unconscious.

"Those poor people."

"Their troubles are long gone. Meanwhile, we've still got a big one running around Los Angeles. Gunn—" Angel said strongly and coldly as he came out of his office, "—saddle up. We're going to see if we can control the damage," he said, grabbing a sword from the weapons' cabinet.

"No, you're not," Michael said defiantly.

Angel stopped dead in his tracks and eyed the demigod, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. If you two go after her, you won't come back. And as much as you'd like to think you're in charge, you're not. I am. Hope is gone and I'm the next in line."

"Yeah. And somehow, I don't care," Angel took a step closer to Michael.

"You should. I've known Hope for five and a half million years. You've known her less than a month. I know how she fights…how she thinks. And whether you like it or not, you take orders from me now."

Angel smiled teasingly, "You think you can threaten me, Michael? Flashing about those powers of yours and thinking I'm impressed? You've done nothing to show me I should listen to you."

"I may not be as powerful as Hope, but I'm all you've got to fight her with. And I'm your link to the big guys upstairs. You need me."

"Fine, we need you. But I'll be damned if I'm going to take orders from you," Angel turned and started to walk out again.

A bolt of lightening struck right in front of Angel, throwing him backwards. He landed hard on the tiled floor at Michael's feet. He coughed.

"Next time, I won't miss," Michael assured him, waiting for him to stand.

* * *

"Bull's-eye!" Hope smiled as she saw her dart landed right where she'd intended it to.

The demon nailed to the wall screamed, the dart sticking out of his eye. Hope smiled and walked closer to him.

"Well, I guess that's more of a your-eye." she snickered, the other creatures behind her laughing as well.

She pulled out her dart and walked back to the bar, taking a sip of her blood martini. The vampire next to her placed a hand on her thigh.

"You shoot well," he complimented.

She eyed him, "You smell good," she said seriously.

"Well, I did just eat a stripper," he confessed.

She didn't give him a chance and sank her fangs into his neck, draining him and holding him tightly as he squirmed. He was dry in a matter of moments and she threw his body aside with a smile.

"You taste good, too," she chuckled.

The bartender looked at her questioningly, "What kind of vampire are you?"

She licked her lips, "I'm a rebel."

"It ain't right to eat one of your own kind."

She grabbed his neck and pulled him closer, "Can I eat your kind?" she asked, smelling the blood under his flesh and hearing it pulse rapidly.

"No, no, I didn't mean anything by it!"

"Well, just to let you in on a little secret: There are no others like me. I'm the only one of _my _kind," she emphasized, then threw the demonic bartender back into the bottles, smiling as they shattered.

"Well, I guess that means I won't have to worry about killing the wrong person," a cheerful voice called out to her from across the bar.

Hope turned slowly to see a blonde and a redhead, both armed; one had physical weapons, one had energy sparking from her fingertips. She smiled and chuckled.

"Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg. What an honor," she continued to chuckle, shooting down the rest of her martini.

* * *

"Oh, stop it, you two! Fighting amongst ourselves isn't going to help," Fred yelled, walking out and helping Angel up.

Angel eyed Michael vehemently, "If she wasn't right, I'd kick your ass."

Michael scoffed, "If she wasn't right, your ass would be buried six feet under."

"So, any idea on how we can fight Miss Vamp-Goddess?" Lorne asked.

"You could always call some backup," a gentle, reserved voice said as the owner of it walked through the front double doors.

Angel looked up and his face softened, "Giles—Xander."

"Angel," Xander greeted him humanely and walked closer to the old acquaintance. Angel noticed he now donned a patch over his left eye—a presumed wound from the battle with the First.

Giles walked alongside him and they stopped in front of Angel.

"I take it you didn't come alone?" Angel waited for Buffy to follow them in.

"Buffy is out. She and Willow are trying to kill your Vamp-Goddess," Xander said knowingly, referring to what he'd overheard from Lorne.

"They're going up against Hope?" Michael asked fearfully.

"I presume. Who are—" Giles cut himself off as Michael disappeared.

Angel exhaled sharply, "Teleporter. So how'd you know to come here?" he asked.

"Willow sensed the First almost two weeks ago. Then she felt the rise of a terrible evil here in Los Angeles. We decided to see if you needed any help," Rupert said calmly.

* * *

Buffy found herself flailing through the air. She landed on the edge of a billiards table. Willow wasn't too far behind. The Slayer got back to her feet and charged again. As she swung with her right fist, the vampire blocked it, landing a blow to her exposed gut. Buffy felt her lungs go flat and all air was shoved from her in a rude cough. The vampire switched her block and grabbed Buffy's forearm. She swung her around like a rag doll. Buffy cursed under her breath as she landed on the barstools, cracking them. Willow tried to ambush her from behind but the vampire used the witch's momentum to throw her at Buffy. The vampire approached and sneered at them with a raised hand, a sphere of energy suspended above her palm.

"Did you really think a witch and a Slayer could even begin to slow me down?" she asked, coming closer.

Buffy smiled in spite of the situation, "Had to try."

As the vampire raised her hand higher and prepared to strike, Buffy saw a young man appear in front of them, a small part of her wondering just who the hell he was.

Then she saw a lobby of a hotel and Angel, Xander and Giles facing one another with others looking on is mild surprise. She and Willow stood shakily and brushed themselves off.

"Buffy," Angel eyed her.

"Hey. Heard you could use some help."

"You people are idiots. No wonder it took you so long to evolve," Michael quipped, leaning against the reception counter.

Angel clenched his teeth together, "Considering you're one of us…" he trailed off, then turned his attention back to Buffy, "Nice of you to pop in."

"Yeah. I guess Giles gave you the scoop?"

"He did. But the situation's a little different than you thought."

"Big evil? What's the diff?" Willow asked.

"The 'big evil'...she wasn't always evil. And, we can't kill her," Michael said simply.

"Everything can be killed," Buffy said.

"No, we _can't_ kill her as in we _shouldn't_. We need to bring her back," Michael sighed.

"Why?" Giles asked.

"She's the opposite power of the First. It poisoned her and we need to bring her back before It devours her goodness completely," Michael took a step closer to the group.

"So she's ultimate goodness?" Xander asked.

Angel nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, "Basically. The First used me to bring her to Itself and, when they fought, It infected her," he explained.

"They fought?" Giles asked, sitting on a couch.

"Hope and the First are on the same reality. They can touch each other. The only difference is that Hope can choose to be on ours and interact with us," Michael said.

"And who are you?" Buffy asked.

"My name's Michael. I'm Hope's...confidante."

"So, what? Almost-ultimate goodness?" Xander quipped.

He shook his head, "Not even close. Hope has the real power. I'm not as strong as she is but I'm the only one in the present company who can't be killed with a blink," he said truthfully.

"Don't bet on it," Hope said, her disembodied voice floating around them, crackling through the air like lightening.

A bolt of lightening struck where it'd struck before and Hope appeared, a martini in her hand.

Willow's eyes lightened and she outstretched her right hand, her mouth giving strength to some magick.

Hope waved her hand and Willow was thrown backwards, shattering the other pair of doors at the far side of the atrium. She advanced on Giles, Michael, Buffy, Xander and Angel. Gunn and Fred ran out behind the commotion to see if Willow was still conscious.

"I guess you got my message," she smiled.

"We did," Angel straightened.

She took a sip of the martini, "I was going to just leave one on the telephone, but I didn't think you appreciate it as much," she explained.

"Thirty-three dead bodies? Yeah, we got the message," Michael approached her.

"Well, well, calling in reinforcements. What? You need more deaths?"

"You seem pretty cocky considering the odds," Buffy noticed.

Hope rolled her eyes, "Not cocky...assured. There is a difference."

Angel took a step closer to Hope, "Whatever you want, it's between you and me. Leave everyone else out of it. They don't need to be involved."

She chuckled and threw her empty martini glass down, the glass shattering on the tile. Outstretching one finger from her closed palm, she pointed it at Angel and he was thrown up to the ceiling of the atrium, pressed hard against it. Then, almost as fast, he came smashing back down, the floor cracking and splintering beneath him.

He felt his rib cage crushed and he spit out the blood from his lungs that had worked its way up to his mouth. He placed his hand on the shattered tiles, trying to get up.

Michael charged at Hope, his fists glowing with deadly fury. Hope seemed unflustered. She blocked his massively swift blows and landed one of her own, sending him into the pillar at the end of the reception counter. He recovered quickly and threw a sphere of lightening at her.

He froze in fear as she caught it and charged it with her own hatred, sparks flying from the mass and lashing out, singing the air around her.

"You honestly think you're any match for me, little boy? You and a bunch of scrawny humans, demons and supernaturals? It won't happen. Ever," she assured him, then lashed out with her sphere and hit him square in the chest.

She approached Buffy and the injured Angel while Michael was knocked unconscious. Buffy rose from her knees at the side of Angel and landed a punch at Hope's face.

Hope smiled as Buffy's fist went right through her as she forewent her tangibility for a moment. She waited until Buffy had tried to understand what had just happened, then threw her weight behind one solid punch and the Slayer was forced into her watcher, tumbling head over heels until they came to rest at the base of the stairs.

Hope's gaze was averted to the top of the stairs where Willow was waiting, her hair white and her fingers crackling with energy, "Back off," she said quietly, her voice mildly threatening.

Hope watched as she prepared to throw a spot of magick at her and waited until the last moment to catch it, dissolving it in her palm.

"Oh, please. This is just too easy. I though there would be at least some frantic and livid screams, maybe some weapons being thrown about the place...but no. All I get is a Wiccan and a puny chosen one. How saddening," she lowered her arm as the power in her palm was completely dissolved.

"I ain't crying," Xander said, chucking a hurling axe at her torso.

The blade lodged itself solidly in her abdomen and she just harrumphed as rivulets of blood drained from her perfectly clean shirt.

"Hey! Don't do that," she admonished him, then pulled out the axe blade and threw it aside, landing it in the wall.

Xander eyed her, knowing he'd landed a blow and that it hadn't even fazed her. He swallowed hard, Gunn and Fred next to him. He looked at the blood puddles forming below; Angel was still lying belly-down on the shattered tile floor and Giles was unconscious at the base of the stairs with Buffy not too far behind. Michael was lying at the base of the reception counter.

Willow summoned another sphere and tried to throw it at Hope.

This time, Hope just sidestepped it, not even bothering to stop and douse it. She eyed Willow and the Wiccan flew back to the side of the atrium.

"Well, I'll be back when time permits. I look forward to our next meeting," she said calmly as she approached Angel's struggling form. She grabbed a tuft of his hair and made him look at her in the eyes. He winced as she pulled his head back farther than it could go naturally.

"Gimme a kiss, lover boy," she smiled, planting her lips on his and sending a quick surge of power through his system. He shuddered, the power welcomed but painful at the same time. She let his head go and turned on her heels...and walked out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Angel cradled his ribcage, "Well, we're all in one piece," he winced as one of his ribs poked at his lungs, "More or less," he added.

"How's Giles?" Willow asked as Buffy walked away from one of the lower rooms.

She shrugged, "Just bruised, mostly. He's getting cleaned up," she turned her attention to Angel, "So, that was the ultimate-good-girl-turned-bad?" she asked.

Angel nodded, "That's Hope."

"She got over her modesty," Michael held a washcloth with ice in it to his slashed forehead.

"So, any chance of a plan?" Willow asked.

"I go to the Powers, see if they can't spare some people," Michael spoke up.

"The Powers that Be ain't gonna help us," Gunn said tiredly.

"They will if they think Hope's lost it. All evidence on the table—she has."

"I'll go with you," Angel stood from the couch.

"No. You stay here. If Hope comes back we need to be ready."

"To what? Get our butts kicked again?" Fred asked.

Michael sighed, "Something like that."

"Is there anything we can do to keep her from making another house call?" Buffy asked.

"I doubt she'd be affected by the sanctuary spell," Lorne chipped in.

"No, she'd break right through it. We need to be where she can't harm us," Michael said, trying to think of such a place.

"And where would that be?" Buffy asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

Michael remained silent for a moment, "A church, synagogue—someplace holy. Hope can only use her powers for the benefit of mankind in those places. It'd be our best bet," he finally blurted out.

"There's a church only a few blocks from here—sewer access," Gunn spoke up.

Angel winced, "Does it have to be a church? Aren't there any synagogues around?"

"Not for miles. Church is our closest bet," Gunn shrugged.

"All right. Bring as many weapons as you can without slowing you down. Head for the church. Get inside and stay there. I'll meet you there when I'm done with the Powers," Michael nodded, looking specifically at Angel.

Angel accepted the order as Michael left and looked to Gunn and Fred, "Get everything out of the cabinet and check the basement," he said tiredly.

"Need me to carry anything?" Buffy offered.

Angel swallowed hard, "Yeah, there're some battle axes in my office. I'll get the stuff in my room," Angel started to walk towards the stairs.

Xander sighed, "Well, this is fun—just how I wanted to spend my summer. We haven't been fighting enough apocalyptic evil lately."

Willow walked over to Buffy as she strode into what was obviously Angel's office.

"So, any ideas on how we deal with bad girl vampire?' she asked.

Buffy sighed, "We'll find a way."

"I don't get it."

"What?"

"I threw everything I had at her. She tossed me out a window."

"It's not your fault. None of us were ready for her to be that strong."

The Wiccan glanced out of the office at Angel as he ascended the stairs, "Did you hear what she called him?"

Buffy kept her eyes on the weapons, "Yeah."

"Do you think she was lying?"

"I don't know. Besides, it's not my business."

"Buffy…"

"I'm okay, Will. Besides, he's had to deal with more than one of my relationships."

"What do you think happened? They had sex and _she_ went evil?"

Buffy stared at her.

"Just a thought. So what are we gonna do?"

Buffy smiled at the change of subject, "Well, they know her better. And that Michael guy seems to know her better than anyone. Maybe something'll turn up."

* * *

Angel stared at the weapons he'd pulled out from under his bed and sighed. All this was too complicated to handle. And now Buffy was here. How could he explain that the woman they were fighting against was his lover? How could he expect her to understand?

Fred walked in with a smile, "Hey."

He glanced at her over his shoulder, "Hey."

"You okay? You kinda got smushed."

"I'll be fine once we get her back."

"Why didn't you wanna tell us?"

He faced her fully, "Huh?"

"About you and Hope."

He sighed, " 'Cause I'm not sure if it was a good or bad thing."

Fred smiled warmly, "You don't have to hide everything from us, you know."

"It seemed like the right thing to do."

"Well, I'm happy for you. And we'll get her back."

"I believe you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"It just had to be a church," Angel said under his breath, feeling the presence of the crosses yearning to burn his flesh. He leaned on a pillar that held up scaffolding, trying to remain away from the walls since they were adorned with icons and symbols of what he was shunned from.

"Why? Uncomfortable?" Xander asked sarcastically.

Angel just eyed him, not wanting to get into the topic anytime soon. He shifted his weight off the pillar and walked down the left isle towards Buffy and Willow. They were seated on the backrests of the front row of pews. The large crucifix behind them on the adorned altar dared him to come closer but he tried to ignore it and settled down a row behind the two powerful women, assuming a seat on a backrest.

"Are you two okay?" he asked.

"We should be asking you that. You got your rib cage flattened," Buffy reminded him.

He shrugged, "It's healing."

"I don't like just sitting here. Isn't there anything we can do?" Willow asked impatiently. The last hours had been silent, no word from Michael or Hope. The latter a disappointment, the former a blessing. But Angel knew that, wherever Michael was traveling, time probably moved at a different rate. What might've been fifteen minutes to him could turn out to be the elapsed time he and the others had endured.

"Against Hope? Not likely. Girl's smart...powerful...plus she has the god-like powers," Gunn quipped tiredly, sitting with his back braced against the altar leg and his eyes closed, trying to catch some sleep while time permitted.

"Aren't we optimistic," Xander noted, his voice dripping with its usual sarcasm.

"Hey, y'all haven't seen what that gal can do. We have. When she sets her mind to something—it gets done," he continued calmly.

"One-track mind, huh?" Buffy asked, looking at Angel after sparing Gunn a glance.

"No. She just multitasks like a god."

Giles walked up to them, "How long has she been with your entourage?" he asked simply.

Angel shrugged, "Just a month."

"And you guys didn't know this could happen?" Willow asked innocently.

"There's a lot about Hope we don't know. All we knew was she was a good guy—one of us. She didn't change until she came out of the Hellmouth," Fred spoke up for the first time since they'd locked themselves inside the church.

"Cleveland?" Giles assumed.

"La Paz," Fred said with a tired light in her eyes.

"Mexico?"

Fred nodded.

"I never knew that one was there. Strange," Giles said, taking off his glasses and proceeding to clean them on his shirt.

One of the back doors opened and the group inside the church tensed, ready to grab whatever weapons were in their grasp. Angel was the first to make out the robed figure—obviously not Hope. He couldn't feel her in his own mind so she was probably a far ways off.

He lowered the sword he'd grabbed and saw Buffy and the others do the same.

The nun looked up, a small candle lantern in her right hand, swinging from side to side. She took pause to look at the strange group, only a moment to eye Lorne.

"I suppose you've not come for Sunday service," she smiled wanly, her old skin wrinkling.

Angel stepped forward, "We come for refuge...sanctuary."

The nun eyed him, "Ah, I remember you. The vampire who dared step in here last time. You were trying to save a little boy, if memory serves. Did it work?" she asked.

Angel shrugged, not wanting to go into detail, "Yeah. We got the demon out."

"Well, I suppose you need my help again."

"No."

"Then why are you here?" she asked, coming closer to him.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

The sister smiled again, "Let me guess—the universal balance has been disrupted and her wrath follows you."

Angel was taken aback.

Buffy stood and eyed the nun, "How'd you know?"

The nun smiled dementedly, her form swirling and her robes falling away to show a magnificent gown of hellish flames. Hope stood there, eyeing them.

"Ethros demon, if I'm not mistaken," she said nonchalantly as Angel backed up with Buffy.

She eyed the church and smiled, her eyes finally resting on Angel, "You know, this isn't the safest place for you and your little group to hang."

"And the safest place is?" Gunn asked, standing, his axe in hand.

Hope eyed him, the literal flames of her dress calming to become a red dress, "Heaven."

With nothing more than a glance, Angel was thrown across the wide width of the room, hitting the wall hard and feeling what little repair had been done to his ribs undone. He staggered to his feet and winced.

Buffy advanced on Hope, Angel's dropped sword in tow. Hope waved her hand.

Buffy's advance was halted. Gunn's astonished look was frozen and the others stood like statues. Angel looked from one of his friends to the next.

"What did you do?" he asked of Hope as she approached him.

"I froze time. To give us some privacy."

"You can't do anything to them in here."

Hope made an exaggerated frown, "Oh well, guess I'll have to settle with doing you," she pushed him against the wall with her mind, his arms held wide like the crucifix at the front altar. Her frown turned to a malicious snarl and she walked closer to Angel, her mind keeping him pinned to the wall.

"You know we could be so happy together," she said softly, her normal innocence and love back in her voice.

"I doubt it."

"Oh, but we could. All you'd have to do is let me relieve you of that soul—let me bring Angelus forth so the two of us can roam this world, pillaging and killing and drinking," she ran a hand over his chest.

"Never."

She pressed both her hands against his chest, pure energy surging through her into him. He screamed as the power that had once given him comfort now racked every nerve he had in his mending body, forcing it to fire and relay the pain to his brain.

"I don't remember needing your permission."

Then the pain was gone and the pressure of her hands was off his chest. But he still had his soul. He could feel it and he eyed her.

"No, you don't get to have fun with me...yet. This would all be too easy if you were on my team. No, I'll let you suffer with the others first...then I'll do you, lover."

"I won't let you," Angel said, still feeling the aftershocks of her power.

Hope smiled warmly, kissing Angel on his jaw line. She ran her hands down his chest and then back up, her gentle touch sending shivers down his spine. She continued to kiss him, her warm lips so pleasurable compared to the coldness of the air.

With a sudden fury, she landed one of her hands on his groin and smile as he gasped in shock, "See? You hate me but can't help but reacting to me—to what I make you feel. It turns you on, seeing me like this...and I know it," she allowed, eyeing him casually, her mind still pinning him to the wall.

Angel glared at her.

She smiled, "Oh, cheer up, love. This will all be over soon and you'll be free. But, for now, I'm having fun with the body count. Try to find me and stop the slaughter," she taunted, placing a hand on the back of his neck.

She bit her own wrist, sucking on it for a moment. Leaning her head back, she kissed him, pushing her blood into his mouth.

Then she was gone.

Time resumed its normal pace and Buffy continued her advance and halted upon seeing no Hope in front of her. She looked over to where Angel was on the floor, on all fours and spitting out the blood she'd forced into his mouth. It was strong, too strong and he wanted to give in and swallow it, but he managed to deny the impulse. If normal blood was compared to truck stop coffee, hers was a double espresso.

"Angel?" Willow asked.

Angel raised his eyes to look at the group. He couldn't find anything to say.

"What happened?" Gunn asked the question on everyone's mind.

Angel shook it off, "Hope froze time. We fought," he lied, not wanting them to know what had really occurred.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked.

He nodded, "I'll be fine. We need to find Hope. She's sponsoring a massacre."

"Yeah, and going after her is the smart thing to do," Xander quipped.

"Innocent people are going to die if we don't do something," Buffy backed Angel, looking towards Xander.

Angel caught her eyes as they returned to him and he nodded, knowing they'd have to leave the relative safety of the church to stop whatever plan Hope had in mind.

* * *

Hope looked over her shoulder, knowing her bloodied wrist would leave a promising trail. She looked at her destination and stepped next to the doorway, the bouncer smiling at her, oblivious to her wound. She rolled her wrist and felt the wound fade and heal, no trace of it ever being there. Looking over her shoulder again, she smiled ruthlessly.

"Come and get me, lover."

She walked into the club full of humans and demons...one of the few major clubs that both went to. Most of the demons consisted of vampires, a few half-breeds, all passing for human. The normal humans in the place were clueless and happily so. Demons of the non-passing variety kept to their own clubs and bars. But for now, this was the perfect spot. She smiled as a drunken man walked off the stage after singing karaoke.

So many clubs allowed the damnable sport. But, she saw on a nearby poster, karaoke hour was almost over and the normal music would resume with a D.J. and all. That's what she wanted. She knew her lover would not be on her trail for some time...plenty of time for her to have a decent meal.

Eyeing the crowd, she noticed that most of the vampires were keeping to the left side of the crowded club, some dancing and some eyeing the food. Half-breeds weren't far off, somehow knowing whom else they could mingle with safely. Hope saw all the food, all the sumptuous blood. But the demons would prove more of a problem than the humans. They were liable to fight back. So she would go for the humans first. Save her energy for the harder fish in the ocean.

* * *

Angel inhaled deeply, smelling the scent Hope had purposefully left by leaving her wound open. It was faint, the smell, but it was enough to go by. Under his long coat was an arsenal of weapons. He let his nose lead him, taking him to the site of Hope's next massacre.

He found himself wishing that Xander and Fred had stayed behind. It had been a while since he'd seen Xander and he had no idea how he could fight with the eye patch. And Fred didn't need to see more carnage if it came down to it. He knew that Buffy, Willow and Gunn could handle themselves. But he didn't want to take the chance of Fred, Xander or Giles being hurt by Hope. Lorne had stayed behind because of his inability to fit in on the streets of L.A.. And, since Michael had failed to show up in the time it took them to mobilize, Angel decided not to wait for him. They'd come this far without the demigod. They could hopefully stop Hope without his help.

The scent of blood took a sharp turn across the street to a large club. The lights reflected in the corridor leading to the main dance floor. He sighed.

D'Oblique. The club he'd first met Kate Lockley in.

He walked across the street, the others following him.

"Can you smell her?" Buffy asked.

"Her blood," he admitted.

She seemed content with the answer and remained quiet, somewhat overwhelmed by the shear implications of what Hope could do. The First was at least powerless. It couldn't stop time or kill people in a blink of the eye. Hope could. She was all the more dangerous because of it.

Upon coming to the entry way to the club, Angel noticed there was no bouncer. Odd, but not unexpected. The club didn't always hire a man if there wasn't enough business.

He stepped over the threshold and a swift odor of blood reached his nose. He paused, the stench from the spilt blood overwhelming.

"Angel?" Gunn asked.

"I think we're too late."

They continued down the stairwell into the main dance floor. Angel was the first down far enough for his eyes to catch sight of the carnage.

Fred audibly gasped, Willow placed her hand over her mouth in shock.

"Oh, dear God," Xander muttered.

Easily a hundred bodies lay scattered about the place. Chairs and tables were upturned and glasses were shattered on the floor. There wasn't a clean tile in the place, there was so much blood.

And not all of it was human. Some was bluish-green and belonged to demons, their faces evident for the obvious struggle. But she'd killed them anyway. Their blood mixed in with the crimson coating on the tiles. Vampires lay also in the mix. All were drained. Those that weren't were mutilated beyond recognition. Angel forced himself down the second flight of stairs and closer to the fresh bodies.

As his foot hit the bottom step, he felt a trip wire give.

He prepared for any attack.

The stereo system turned on.

"One Way or Another" started playing loudly. Angel winced at the loudness of it, feeling that it somehow desecrated the dead.

"How could she do this?" Gunn asked sorrowfully, taking a place next to Angel.

"This isn't Hope. This is what the First created," Angel tried to sound confident, hoping it would persuade not only Gunn but himself as well.

"What should we do?" Willow asked, still staring painfully at the bodies.

Angel straightened, "There's nothing we can do. We're too late."

He turned decidedly and started walking back up the stairs. Buffy grabbed his arm.

"We can't just leave it like this," she argued gently.

"We have to. The cops would just slow us down," Angel reasoned, shaking loose of Buffy gently and continuing to walk.

Buffy, although shocked by his coldness, understood his logic. She turned her back on the grisly scene and followed him, not daring to look Giles, Xander or Willow in the eyes.

They made it to the relatively fresh air of the street outside and took a moment to gather their senses, but not long for fear they would look suspicious.

* * *

Angel tossed his swords and other weapons onto the nearest pew, his mood dampened by the events of the night. Buffy and the other followed suite.

Lorne walked up to him with a semi-hopeful face, "Well, you're all alive...that's good...right?" he asked quickly.

"We were too late," Gunn told him sadly, his anger evident in his voice.

"Oh, no…" Lorne trailed off.

"Women, men, vampires...half-breeds...she killed them all," Angel said, collapsing on a pew and holding his face in his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees.

"How many?" Lorne asked timidly.

"At least a hundred," Giles said, barely maintaining his composure.

Willow sat in the isle, no strength to move herself to a seat, and started to sob. She'd seen death and carnage before. But just never to that extent. Not so many bodies at once. Not so much blood spilled for food, so much left behind for show. Xander sat next to her and cradled her as she buried her face into his chest, starting to cry more openly. Giles sat next to Angel and removed his glasses, somehow hoping it would erase what he'd seen. It didn't and he exhaled deeply, assuming much the same posture as Angel. Fred sat silent across the isle and Gunn was gently rubbing her back, trying to comfort her. There were even a few tears flowing down Fred's face, the horrors she'd seen in Pylea comparing to the carnage at the club.

"I know you're all upset, but we need to do what we can to stop her now," Michael's voice appeared as he stood from sitting in the front row of pews.

Angel eyed him, "Tell me you didn't know."

Michael sighed, "I didn't know until I came back. Even then there was nothing I could do."

Satisfied, Angel stood tiredly, feeling all his years weigh down on him, "What do we do?" he asked.

Michael held out a roll of parchment, "I got this from one of the Powers. It's a recipe. The Powers said it might help."

Angel nodded, "Let's get started."

Michael looked to Giles, "We need someone to translate it. I can't read it."

Giles looked up and replaced his glasses, "Of course. I'll see what I can decipher," he promised, standing and walking towards Michael, taking the parchment from his hand.

"So what do we do until then?" Xander asked.

"Not much. We should be able to hold her off for a while. From the looks of things, she's on overdrive. She's draining demons to keep going."

"Have you ever seen her able to do what she did back at the Hyperion?" Angel asked.

Michael shook his head, "No. She's pulling out stunts I didn't know she could do. It might be a side effect of drinking the blood."

"You've never seen her drink blood before?"

"Never."

"Could that be how the First is controlling her?" Fred asked.

"It might have something to do with it."

"Hold on. I still don't completely understand how someone just turns into a blood-sucking fiend overnight," Xander spoke up.

"She didn't. She was born as a hybrid. Half human, half vampire. That's why she's so powerful. Now, all she's doing is feeding her vampire side. It's making her stronger."

"Only a little, obviously," Xander quipped.

* * *

Hope walked into the hospital, following the scent of her intended towards its source. Nurses didn't bother to stop her, patients paid her no mind.

She walked right through the door to Wesley Wyndam-Pryce's hospital room. He was alone, the blood packets still draining into him.

He saw her and his eyes went wide.

"Don't bother calling for security. They can't stop me," she warned him.

"I know. What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice shaky and his skin still pale.

Hope leaned onto the bed, her arms crossed and her body bent to be at eye level with him, "Well, that's the million dollar question—wouldn't it be nice if we actually got a million dollars for answering it?" she asked rhetorically, "Anyway, I just wanted to check in…see how you're doing."

"Fine, thanks," Wesley said coldly.

"Oh, come on, now. Is that any way to treat a buddy like me?"

"You're not Hope."

"Yeah, so I gather. But, just to be fair, I guess I should let you know that I'm planning to kill your pretty little friends after I leave here. They're no match for me. Even that Slayer and the witch they brought in can't touch me," she said offhandedly.

"Buffy? Willow?"

"And Giles and Xander. They came too. The whole gang...give or take. And here you are, stuck in a perfectly wonderful hospital bed with not a care in the world. You'd think it'd help—being stuck in isolation from the outside world. But it doesn't, does it, Wes? It only makes the world cut in deeper when you finally hear about it. That's what makes socializing so appealing. For me, anyway. So, I said to myself, I should go see my pal Wes at the hospital, see how he's doing."

"I'm not your pal," Wesley said coldly.

Hope blinked, confused, "Well, that stings. And what have I ever done to you?" she asked, breaking out into a snide smile.

* * *

Angel, still inwardly shocked from seeing the carnage Hope had left behind, sat on the nearest pew and rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

His feelings for Hope were complicated. He knew the best part of her—the part she'd shared with him when they were in bed and holding each other. He closed his eyes and tried to remember it, remember that perfect peace. She understood him as a warrior and he understood her as a woman who was trying to do her best to fight what evil she could. She'd faced so much and still held the burden of being what she was.

He admired her more than anything at first.

It had turned to passion not too long after the admiration set in.

"Angel?" Buffy asked loudly, as if she'd been repeating herself.

Angel snapped his head up to look and saw her standing over him, her eyes drilling softly into his.

"What's up?" he asked, rubbing his eyes free of the images of Hope.

She shrugged, "Just wanted to talk, see how you were doing."

He leaned back and exhaled, "I'll answer that once we get her back to normal."

"What was she like—before this?" Buffy asked, sitting next to him as the others dissipated to do what they wished.

Angel looked ahead as if seeing her there, "She was everything good in this world, Buffy. The way she acted...the way she talked. It's all she was."

"Sounds nice...having someone like that on our side," Buffy agreed.

"It made it easier to fight. It gave you an idea of what you were fighting for," he droned.

"And she helped you fight?" Buffy asked.

Angel nodded, "Yeah."

Buffy smiled wanly, looking down at her intertwined fingers, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you love her," she said quietly.

Angel looked at her. They just stared at each other for a moment until he looked away again.

"It wasn't what you and I had…if that's any consolation," he muttered.

Buffy actually emitted a stifled chuckle, "Not much, but enough."

Angel smiled ironically, "You know, this is payback for what I did to you—what I put you through as Angelus."

Buffy cocked an eyebrow, "It does fit."

Angel eyed her as she stared ahead at nothingness, "You've changed so much since we first met," he observed.

She slowly turned her gaze to him, her mind wondering where this conversation was leading. Angel and she just stared at each other for another moment.

"How?"

"You're not just confident anymore...you're knowledgeable and there's no more high school girl in you. That's all gone and all that's left is the woman...the Slayer," he complimented her, staring at her admiringly.

Buffy felt her cheeks warm and she looked down at the floor, "I appreciate that."

"You deserve it," Angel said, then stood achingly and walked away towards Gunn, Fred and Lorne who were conversing quietly with Willow and Xander.

Willow was the first to notice Angel and smiled wanly at his approach.

"How're you holding up?" she asked with forced cheerfulness.

Angel felt himself smile at that, "I've been better. You?" he asked.

She shrugged in that way she had, tilting her head slightly for a second, "I'm still kinda queasy," she admitted.

"I think we all are and I didn't even see anything," Lorne chipped in, speaking of Hope's massacre.

Angel took a look at Xander, "What's with the patch?" he asked.

Xander shrugged, "Oh, it's my glorified bricklayer's trophy saying that I didn't get killed by a maniacal priest," he said offhandedly, his hands clasping for emphasis.

"Caleb?" Angel asked, remembering the priest from when he'd gone to see Buffy in Sunnydale before the big fight.

Xander nodded, "Yeah...it really gives me a whole tough-guy look, don't you think?" he asked quickly.

"Very tough-guy," Fred smiled awkwardly.

Willow looked for a moment at Angel, "We were sorry...to hear about Cordelia."

The topic panged Angel and he just nodded once, "Thanks."

"So, I guess we're just waiting for Mr. Giles to translate the text and then we can get started, right?" Fred asked.

"Let's just hope it all goes smooth."

* * *

Hope had left the hospital after a while, growing bored of playing mind games with Wesley. So, she walked the streets in search of another good meal that would satisfy her ravenous lust. The demon blood was what she preferred and, for that, she needed older demons to get the right flavor. She knew where she could find one, but she wanted to let time do its work. Let him wait for the other shoe to drop.

Her attention was called to the bar across the way. It was filled with vivacious young men who were just looking for a special woman for the night...and she had her eyes on all of them.

She willed on a scant outfit and sauntered over to the bar and took pleasure in the open mouths and wide-eyed stares she received from the lowlifes. Until she could terrorize her lover, these men would do. Men were so much sweeter than women. Their blood ran with lust and unbridled desires. It made the blood all the better, the rush all the more intoxicating.

Less than an hour later, the place was filled with dry corpses, the men thrown about in every which way and the few women killed without a drop of blood spilled. Now, with the preliminaries done, she could start the main event.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Angel looked from one person to the other, knowing none of them wanted to see Hope again even if they were trying to help her. What she'd done was too terrible for them to ignore.

Things were tense with anxiety. They were all just sitting, waiting for the ritual to start so they could cure Hope. And the silence between them was deafening. Giles was still translating the obviously difficult text and could probably use Wesley's help in doing so, by the looks of it.

The front, large, double wooden doors of the church were thrown open, their hinges creaking. Angel stood from where he was sitting and grabbed the sword next to him. Beside him, Gunn, Buffy, Willow, Xander, Fred and Michael stood ready, Lorne backing up by Giles and trying to speed up the process.

Hope walked in.

She smiled as the doors settled up against the walls, the graying sky outside, "Miss me?" she asked.

Angel scoffed, "Not really."

Gunn spasmodically threw an axe at her, hoping to catch her off guard. Without flinching or her eyes leaving Angel, the axe stopped in mid-hurl and floated there for a moment.

With her eyes still on Angel, she said, "Nice try, Gunn," she then scarily moved her eyes to him, the axe propelled in his general direction.

It was thrown off course only inches from Gunn's astonished face as a sphere of energy hit it. Michael stepped forward.

"Leave. You can't wield the best here," he forewarned her.

She made a curious frown, "Really? Oh! That's right…only actions in the benefit of mankind can be used in a sacred space. And...no teleportation—so I can't just send you all to a nice field somewhere," she remembered enthusiastically.

"You can't hurt us here," Michael emphasized.

With pressed lips, Hope's eyes fell on Angel, "But, then again, you're not a member of mankind," she smiled.

Angel was thrown backwards onto the altar and the crucifix, his exposed skin burning and his yelp cut short as he fell to the ground.

Buffy landed a kick to Hope's face and the goddess recovered without breaking stride. She blocked Buffy's next punch and cocked an eyebrow as she landed her own punch to Buffy's chest, sending her spiraling backwards and skidding on the polished wood floors.

Willow and Michael threw their own spheres of magickal energy, both being blocked by Hope and disintegrated. Michael ran up to her and they exchanged a buffet of punches, none of them landing. Finally, Michael landed one and his increased strength caused Hope to shake it off for a second, giving him that moment to land a kick in her abdomen. She caught the wind knocked out of her and stood straight, blocking his next kick by grabbing his ankle as it swept towards her neck.

She smiled and threw his leg upwards, forcing him to fall on his back. With her hand on his ankle, she threw him like a toy across the distance of the church, the brick walls cracking as he hit them. Buffy, Gunn and Xander ran at her all at once, hoping for strength in numbers. Willow tried to bind the goddess but her spell was repelled.

Jumping up and throwing both her legs forward, Hope took out Gunn and Xander, leaving Buffy there alone with little chance of changing the previous outcomes. She tried to land a hard swing with a broadsword and it was kicked from her hand, the bones in her wrist shattering. She cursed and held the shattered wrist close to her chest, lashing out with her leg and watching as Hope ducked under her swipe at the neck. When her foot landed, she was off balance and Hope grabbed at her neck, picking her off the floor. Buffy, with her one good hand, tried to pull herself up to allow air to enter her lungs.

"The great Slayer. How disappointing," Hope sighed heavily.

A bullet tore through Hope's abdomen. Another flashed into and out of her arm that was holding Buffy up. Buffy was dropped and looked to the source.

Angel was standing there, both hands outstretched and wielding Wesley's handguns. He fired again and a bullet from each gun made their way to Hope's confused figure. They struck her in her legs; another set of rounds hit her in her chest. She eyed the wounds and saw her own blood draining from them. Angel's eyes were pure defensive anger. He continued to fire off rounds as he realized Hope was unaffected, taking steps towards him as more bullets tore her already bloodied flesh.

His magazines emptied and he ejected them, reaching into his jacket pockets for more.

Gunn reached behind the altar and pulled out an elephant gun, tossed it to Xander and reached for a large shotgun himself. Hope looked at them as Xander fired off the elephant gun. It blew a large hole through her stomach and she seemed more annoyed than anything. Gunn fired off his rounds quickly, trying to keep them centered in her legs and chest, hoping to slow her up as she ignored them and continued to advance on Angel.

Then another elephant-gun-ejected bullet hit her in her heart.

She finally staggered.

With dozens of holes in her skin and her own blood draining from them, she paused, her hands at her sides like a hawk's talons. She lowered her face and closed her eyes, trying to maintain her consciousness.

Michael knew what she was doing, "Take cover!" he yelled, ducking behind the stone slab of the podium and taking Fred with him.

Hope leveled her head and her eyes opened quickly, a hellish red light glowing in them. Bullets flew from her torn body, ejected with more power than the guns that had landed them there. The brick walls were the main victims with chunks of red flying about the place. Angel dove to the side, but not in time. He felt the sting of the bullets as a few ripped through his chest and yelped when one tore through his kneecap.

Buffy felt one land in her shoulder, the force of it throwing her backwards.

Willow screamed as a bullet ripped past her and Xander, ripping a single layer of flesh on Xander's arm but continuing on to hit the back brick wall.

Then the barrage of bullets stopped and Hope was encased in a silver glow. When the haze was gone, Hope was perfectly clean and dressed in normal clothes. She eyed Gunn, Xander and the others in turn, "That was rude," she admonished them.

In the commotion, Gunn realized he'd taken a hit in his hand that had been up in defense. Giles and Lorne were behind the large stone with Michael and Fred and were unharmed.

Hope walked closer to Angel; he was struggling to keep himself upright, using the pew for stability since his left kneecap was more or less shattered. He looked up at Hope harshly as she stared down at him haughtily. She grabbed his shirt by the front and lifted him to her level, the tips of his sneakers barely touching the floor.

"You're coming with me," she declared with a smile, her face changing to become the vampire. Her teeth elongated and her forehead was scrunched up.

Angel felt a rush of panic flash in his mind.

Hope snarled as he winced with the pain, knowing none of the others were in any condition to land a blow while she was distracted.

A stake appeared in her hand and she let the tip of it touch his chest. She spun him around to face the others as they all tried to recuperate.

"Don't follow or you'll need a broom and a dustpan," she assured them, dragging the wounded Angel out of the church and onto the streets.

"No!" Buffy yelled, ignoring her pain and wanting to go after Angel.

She stopped as, once Hope and Angel crossed the threshold of the church, they disappeared in a blaze of fire.

Buffy watched them go, her heart pounding in her chest and her eyes watering instinctively. Angel was gone...and now he was in Hope's hands.

* * *

"Is everyone all right?" Giles asked, eyeing the people around him.

Buffy winced as Michael extracted the bullet from her shoulder and inhaled sharply as it was finally pried out, "Yeah, fine," she said sarcastically.

Gunn eyed his bandaged hand and watched as Fred wrapped up Xander's arm where the bullet had skimmed his skin, "Now what?" he shifted his gaze to Willow, "Can you get him back?" he asked, knowing she might have a chance.

Willow and Michael exchanged a glance, "I doubt it," she said after a moment, "Hope's more powerful than I am," she explained.

"We don't even know where she might've taken him," Michael said, his hand on his forehead.

Buffy sighed, "Then we have to figure it out. Who knows what she could be doing to him."

Michael inhaled, "As long as she's occupied with Angel, the rest of the world is safe—and that includes us," he said quietly.

Buffy eyed him, "So you're just gonna let Hope torture him?"

"She won't come after us or anyone else if she's occupied with him. The best thing we can do is to finish translating that ritual so we can cure Hope," Michael reiterated.

"Michael's right," Wesley said as he walked in, his neck bandaged and still obviously weak from the way he was walking.

"Wesley?" Buffy asked, more in shock to see him with a bit of stubble and disheveled hair. Then she realized what he'd said and she shook her head, "No, we're not leaving Hope to put Angel through that."

Wesley walked stiffly closer, "Hope's more important than Angel right now. She has a bigger role in the world. And if we save her, we save Angel," he said strongly, a confidence and bravado present that Buffy had never seen before.

Giles eyed his old associate and managed a wan smile, "Wesley," he greeted him.

"Rupert," he turned his attention back to Michael, "You said you can cure Hope?"

"I talked to the Powers and they gave me a recipe to bring her back. Giles is translating it," he said slowly, bringing the injured Wesley up to speed.

Wesley nodded, "I suppose I should help."

"By all means. It would be appreciated."

Wesley and Giles walked off to continue translating the text.

"So, what? We just wait here for Hope to make another appearance?" Xander asked.

"That's all we can do," Michael allowed, folding his hands and looking down at the floor.

* * *

Hope eyed the long knives in the woodblock on her kitchen counter. They all had black handles. She wondered why for a moment. Why would they all have black handles?

"Hope…" Angel's weak voice reached her.

She looked through her open bedroom door to see Angel lying on her bed, tied down by mystical bonds that no one except her could break. He was half-naked, his shirt off and the blood from the bullet wounds draining onto her sheets. His left knee was swollen and shards of bone poked out of the skin.

She eyed him, taking out a knife and placing it on a breakfast tray of assorted objects.

She carried the breakfast tray into her room silently, Angel trying to struggle against his bonds but to no avail. He eyed the tray and would snap his attention back to her, then back to the tray. His jaw was tight with pain and fear.

Hope placed the tray on the nightstand, slipping onto the bed, on top of Angel. She sat on his midsection, her fingers digging into the bullet wounds in his chest. He clenched his teeth and his eyes closed. Hope finally smiled.

"Having fun, love?" she asked.

"Stop!" he begged, his voice rasp.

She pried into the bullet wound deeper, pushing the bullet around in his muscles, feeling him squirm under her touch. She pried another finger into the wound and pulled out the bullet roughly. He let out a yelp as the bullet was torn from his wounded flesh.

Hope tossed it aside and picked something up from the tray, smiling.

Angel saw the container and started to shake his head, "No...Hope...no," he was cut off as she let drops of Holy Water sink into the wound.

Angel inhaled sharply, his body tensing up. She turned the bottle at a sharper angle and more of the water poured into the wound, eliciting a scream from Angel.

Hope rolled her eyes, "Do you have to scream? It gives me a headache, you know," she said in exasperation.

She ran her finger over his bleeding lips and a large wad of cloth appeared in his mouth, stifling any protest he might have uttered. He grunted in anger and pain, unable to articulate any further.

Hope smiled, "That's better. One bullet down…" she trailed off, digging her index finger into the next wound.

* * *

Angel felt like his body was on fire from the inside out. His wounds had been filled with Holy Water and then sealed by Hope's mindful touch. He could feel his muscles under the thin layer of skin burning, bubbling and fraying.

He'd stopped grunting through the gag in lieu of screaming, the pain was so constant. It melted into itself, dousing itself with more pain of equal intensity and seeming like a normal part of the routine. His eyes were half closed with the tiredness of the pain and sweat covered his skin. He watched listlessly as Hope eyed him as he squirmed. She seemed to be contemplating.

"Hmm, I suppose that's all over with. It was more fun when you were trying to scream," she allowed, obviously bored, "Well, what now? Fire? More Holy Water? Maybe the knife? I've got a cross, if you want that?" she smiled.

He eyed her harshly.

She cocked an eyebrow, "The cross? That's just what I was thinking," she pulled out the golden cross on a necklace that had blood on it and let it sit in her hand, "I stole this from a corpse at the club. Do you think it counts as stealing if the person's dead?" she asked, feigning seriousness, "You know, it's amazing. Even with my humanity gone, the cross has no affect on me. Well, that's a perk," she eyed him, then jumped onto the bed and sat on his lap. He groaned.

"Well, you know what? I'm feeling better. I think I want to hear you scream for mercy," she mentally removed the wad of cloth from his mouth and Angel felt his sore jaw close after being propped open by the cloth.

She let the cross dangle above his neck and he squirmed to get away from the effect it would have on his skin, "Hope…" he trailed off.

She pulled the cross back into the palm of her hand, "What, love?" she asked.

"If you're gonna kill me, just do it now," he asked strongly, the Holy Water under his skin still burning in the back of his mind.

She bent down and licked his jaw line, "No, love," she slapped her palms against his cheeks and smiled as the right one sizzled with the cross pushed up against it, "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to free you...once I've had my fun," she pulled her hands from his face and eyed the cross and then the imprint of it on his cheek.

He exhaled sharply at the freedom from the cross and eyed it as it dangled above his chest. Hope lowered it slowly.

It finally laid flat against his chest and the skin under it started to sizzle. Angel's jaw clenched and he stifled a yelp.

Hope pulled it off his skin and let it swing on the chain, watching Angel recover.

"You know, I've always admired that Buffy. She's a very original girl. I think she came up with this one," she grabbed at the sides of his mouth with one hand and the other let the swinging cross dangle just above his open mouth.

Angel tried to close his jaw but he couldn't do it without taking the sides of his cheeks off the insides of his mouth. Hope was making sure of that. Eyeing him intently, she lowered the cross into his mouth but made sure it didn't touch the vulnerable flesh.

"Do you love me, Angel?" she asked sincerely, her voice soft.

He just eyed her, knowing that any motion on his part would cause the cross to touch the insides of his mouth.

"No answer?" she seemed surprised and consequentially lowered the cross farther into his mouth towards the back of his throat. Angel felt like gagging but denied the impulse, feeling the power of the cross dying to sear his soft tissues.

She sighed heavily, "Well, I'm insulted," she said, clamping his mouth closed for him and smiling as he tried to force his jaw open. His eyes went wide and Hope guessed the cross was doing its work. She held his jaw shut with both hands and started to chuckle.

The pain was gone and Angel felt his jaw open. Hope had pulled the cross from his mouth and waited for him to say anything. All Angel could feel was his swollen and pained tongue and the charred sides of his cheeks. He couldn't have spoken even if he'd wanted to.

Hope laid herself on top of him fully, her chest pushing against his wounds. He exhaled sharply as the holy water under his skin was disturbed and burned at previously unexposed muscle. Hope ran her hands over his arms as they were tightly bound to the bedposts.

With her head beneath his jaw, she was like a shadow. Lying over him, covering him, she was warm. Against his cold skin, she felt so much more alive.

"Did you know I could bring back pain? Pain from the past, whatever it may be?"

He stayed quiet.

"Neither did I. Just found out. Bring back pain and never once see a wound. It's all psychological. All about tweaking the nerves. Physical, emotional, makes no difference. It can all come back."

Hope sat up on his chest, still straddling him. She leaned close, her face in his, "Have a request?"

Her deep eyes bore into his. He felt a piercing coldness go through his left shoulder. He gasped. Heat seeped through his shoulder, numbing it.

"Remember that?"

He felt his shoulder become useless, the numbness spreading out to the rest of his chest. The numbness was painless. It burned; it was like needles. Like a constant awakening of a dead limb.

"The arrow…it slid through you like butter. A shame it didn't hit Buffy afterwards. That would've been more amusing. But your shoulder stopped it. All thick and muscular. It almost touched the heart, didn't it? That's why you collapsed. Why Buffy had to catch you."

"Stop."

"Why? In the mood for something else?"

He felt the pain go away as quick as it had come. The effects of the nonexistent poison were gone and he felt his shoulder again. But the pain in his chest from the pressure of Hope laying on it, that was still there.

"What about losing Connor? That was a heavy blow. Or losing Doyle? Watching them both snatched from you. Knowing, deep down, that you could've stopped it. You could've been faster. Could've been smarter."

His heart sank. She didn't need to make him feel it. It came, unbidden, to hit his heart.

"The soul might make it hurt…but the heart makes it painful."

Hope picked up a pack of metal barbeque skewers. She opened it slowly, looking at the candle next to the knife on the tray. She placed the first tip of a skewer into the flame and held it there for some time until Angel found it glowing a dim red. He braced himself for wherever he might be impaled. He swallowed hard and watched her.

She let the glowing tip of the skewer dangle just above his already wounded flesh. With a sudden and unseen fury, she plunged it into his dead heart. He screamed out and caught himself, the pain of his chest moving causing the skewer to hurt all the more.

As he convulsed in pain and was unable to scream—his mouth open in the attempt—Hope ran her lips around the rim of his ear.

He grunted in an attempt to push the pain away, the skewer in his throat not letting him speak. He eyed Hope with a hard, cold stare. She wagged her finger at him. Sliding off him, she smiled..

She blew him a kiss, "I'll be back later, lover. And I won't be alone," she promised, walking out of the bedroom.

* * *

Hope strolled the streets of Los Angeles, eyeing those who passed her by. Most were nothing more than appetizers compared to the rich blood she craved. She wanted that sweetness, that wonderful power. And she knew that only the oldest demons and the most powerful of supernaturals would have that blood. So, she kept her eyes and other senses peeled, hoping to stumble upon one or the other to fulfill her craving. A vampire walked past her and she smiled inwardly, knowing he was young and his blood had no flavor to it. She let him continue on his way without an altercation, her tongue wanting a more refined taste of the power they held.

She stopped by an alleyway, sensing a few vampires of some credit...they smelled and sent off the strength of being over a hundred...which was rare in this town. Most of the vampires here were new, naïve and untrained. But these three…

They would do well to be her meal.

She approached them as they finished off a streetwalker. She smiled as she caught sight of the pale corpse lying on the asphalt. One of the vampires eyed her as she approached, his face still in its demonic visage.

"Back off...its our kill," he threatened, baring his fangs.

Hope smiled, knowing they sensed the vampire inside her, wanting to come out at the sight of her quarry. She put her hands in her pockets.

"I have no intention of stealing your kill," she snickered, letting her face change over, bones and muscles rearranging.

The threesome straightened, keeping their yellow eyes on her.

"Then what do you want?" another asked.

Hope sniffed the air, "Mmm. You smell good," she observed.

Unsure of how to reply to that line, the vampires just faced her, watching her as she rocked on the heels of her feet, an evil, innocent face causing them to suspect less of her.

She charged with a feral and malicious snarl.

* * *

"Do you hear that?" Buffy asked, moving closer to the walls of the church.

"What?" Willow asked.

"Fighting...outside," Buffy said, hearing a struggle and some primal screams.

"Leave it there. We can't afford to go out," Michael said.

Buffy turned on him, "What is your problem?!" she demanded.

He eyed her nonchalantly, "I see things for what they are."

"You're a cold-hearted bastard is what _you_ are!" Buffy took a step closer to him.

Michael stood, "Listen, Slayer, there are things at work here you and your little playmates can't possibly understand. I've been around for a while longer than you and I know what's going on out there. Just vampires...fighting for their lives. Its none of our concern if Hope takes them out," he said strongly.

"Do you think she'd drink Angel?" Fred asked timidly.

Michael shook his head, "I don't know. She might. But I doubt it. His blood is strong...but she won't chance giving up a playing card."

"Okay, if I'm looking at the stats the right way, she holds the entire deck. Why worry about a single card to play?" Xander asked.

"It's an emotional advantage. As long as we think about Angel, we'll be reluctant to put him in harm's way by going after her," Wesley spoke up.

"But he's already in harm's way. He's with her," Buffy pointed out.

"She won't kill him. That's not one of her priorities right now," Michael reiterated.

"How can you be so sure?" Willow asked.

Michael eyed her, "Because I know her mind. I was with her when she fought the First."

"Shh," Gunn hushed them all up, putting his ear to the double doors at the front of the church, a crossbow ready for action.

They all became silent.

Gunn was able to make out the distinct footfalls of Hope's boots coming closer to the double doors. He backed away, throwing aside the crossbow and picking up a shotgun, handing the rifle to Wesley.

The doors flew open and Hope stood there, blood dripping down her chin and her eyes glowing yellow in the moonlight. She made no attempt to come closer to those inside, only smiled.

"Sun's coming up soon," she said simply.

"Thanks for the warning," Gunn eyed her, ready to pull the trigger.

"Don't you just love the sun? The greatest of the Old One's gifts. It's a panacea, wouldn't you say? You know, I'd hate to think what would happen to Angel if he were unprotected when it came up. It might be hazardous to his health," she smiled wider.

Buffy refrained herself from making a show of her worry about her past love, knowing it would only strengthen Hope's deck and give her more of an opportunity.

Hope eyed her, "You should go to him, Buffy. He needs you. All bloody and beaten, lying there, waiting to be freed by his love," she said monotonously.

Giles placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder, knowing she wanted to go, wanted to save him.

"Well, aren't we all comfortable. Snug as some burgers in a fast-food restaurant waiting to be served up to the next paying customer. How...tasty. You know—" she took a step over the threshold.

"Stay where you are!" Wesley said, his strength returning and his desire to protect those behind him overwhelming.

"Or what? You'll shoot me to death? You don't want to kill me. You _can't_ kill me. My face, my eyes," she changed her face and allowed herself to be innocent and pure looking again, "My voice...all the same."

"But the soul isn't there," Wesley pointed out.

"Ah, who cares about a soul these days? Its just a reminder of the past...all we've done wrong...all we regret. Mankind would be so much happier without it," she declared.

"Then we wouldn't be human," Giles said cautiously.

"Hmm...hadn't thought about that. Oh well. But, getting back to the point—which is Angel—I'm getting bored with him. Got to find some new kind of torture. The physical stuff's just so mundane. I was thinking of torturing one of you in front of him. What do you think about that?" she eyed Buffy.

"Never gonna happen."

"Oh, please, like you could stop me?"

"I could try."

"You'd fail."

"Worth the shot."

"Take me," Fred stepped forward next to Gunn and Wesley.

Hope eyed her with.

"Fred," Gunn let his guard down and turned to face her, not caring if Hope took the advantage, "I won't let you do this."

"He's right. You don't need to do this," Wesley said, keeping half his attention on Hope.

"It's my choice," Fred said simply.

"No," Michael finally stood and stepped in front of her, eyeing Hope, "You won't have her."

"Aww, how sweet...coming to her side. What a knight in shining armor. I knew you had a crush on her," Hope smiled snidely.

"I protect the innocent. That includes her," he defended himself.

Fred watched Hope from behind Michael.

Hope eyed her, still smiling, "I promise I won't kill her."

"You can't take her," Michael said again.

"Yes, she can," Fred placed a hand on Michael's shoulder and stepped in front of him, eyeing Hope.

"Well, well, well. What a wonderful sacrificial lamb. All ready for the slaughter," Hope let Fred come closer, her mind holding back the men who would protect her.

The two of them walked out of the church and Hope eyed Michael, "I'll bring her back when I'm done," she said as they both disappeared in a burst of flames.

The doors shut forcefully and Michael felt Hope's control released. He looked to Wesley and Gunn.

"She took the bait," he sighed.

"You sure it'll work?" Gunn looked to Wesley.

He nodded, "The text says it will. Its the best chance we've got at saving Hope."

* * *

"Angel...I brought you someone," Hope smiled, opening the door to her bedroom.

Fred gasped and tried to run to his side, wanting to free him.

Hope held her back, "Now, now. Patience, Winifred."

Angel eyed Hope and Fred, hoping that neither of them was really there. The skewer in his heart was still warm from when she'd left and he could feel his skin healing around it, fearing the moment Hope yanked it out.

"What? No hello kiss?" Hope smiled, walking closer to Angel and sitting on the bed next to him.

"I don't care what he said—you're a monster," Fred eyed her in disgust.

Without much effort, Hope mentally chained Fred to the wall, some length on the chains giving her room to move slightly. Fred looked at her bindings in surprise and eyed Angel as his weak eyes focused on Hope.

"Trust me, Winifred. You haven't seen anything yet," she placed her hand on the skewer in his chest and pulled, hard. It was torn free with an audible slurp. Angel didn't scream. Clenching his jaw shut, he just arched his back, his eyes welded shut in pain and his hands grasping the mystical bonds holding him down, grabbing onto them.

"Leave him alone!" Fred screamed, a tear in her eye.

Hope eyed him, then turned her eyes to eye her. She stood and walked closer to her captive, some imagination running forth and seeing what punishment could be inflicted.

She ran her fist across Fred's face, twisting the tiny-figured woman with the strength of her blow. She looked over her shoulder and she heard Angel try to yell at her, his own pain insubstantial compared to whatever pain Fred was experiencing.

His eyes drilled through her, his teeth clenched in pain and anger.

"Jealous?" Hope asked.

She sauntered back to him and grabbed the large blade, tracing it slowly across his chest, making a hairline cut from his waist to his neck wound, the blood from where the skewer had been yanked free seeping into the thin line cut on his chest.

She maneuvered herself to sit on his waist, her lightweight frame causing him more pain. His back and chest tensed and his fists clenched again.

With the blade still in her hand, she kissed him full on the lips, her face changing over to hold a demonic countenance, "What a shame to let all that blood go to waste," she smiled.

Angel's eyes widened as she lowered her lips to his wounded chest, gently licking the blood out of it. He could feel her lips and felt her tongue sliding into the wound, pressing up against muscles.

"Stop it," Fred begged, barely able to hold her bruised cheek.

Hope eyed him again, "Fine, I will," she plunged the blade deep into his abdomen, twisting it and making him squirm. He turned to one side slightly and Hope had to regain her balance on top of him. With a smile of sadistic pleasure, she twisted the knife again, Angel's face scrunching up in unbearable pain.

* * *

"Are you sure this will work?" Gunn looked to Michael, Giles and Wesley.

Michael nodded, "As sure as we can get," he answered.

"What _exactly _is supposed to happen?" Buffy asked.

"If Fred can infect Hope, we can bring her here; let it do it's job," Wesley said, still working on the ingredients.

"Yeah, I get that. But what is this supposed to do?" Buffy repeated herself, lingering over the three working men.

Michael stopped what he was doing and stood, looking at the Slayer, "Technically, this drug will shut down her central nervous system. Mystically, it'll start undoing whatever the First did."

"Of course, if the dose is too high, it could kill her," Wesley added nonchalantly.

"I thought we wanted to keep bad-ass vamp-girl alive," Xander pointed out.

"We do. She won't die."

"Okay, so how do we get this thing going? How does Fred infect her?" Gunn asked, still shouldering a shotgun.

Michael looked out the windows, "The sun will come up in an hour or so. That'll start the process. From there, it's just a matter of time."

Buffy followed his gaze to the graying sky, "Let's hope they make it that long," she said under her breath.

* * *

Fred saw the first rays of sunlight gleam through Hope's balcony, falling onto the wooden floor and sneaking their way towards the goddess.

Hope was walking around the bed, eyeing Angel as he tried to recuperate and allow himself to heal. She'd forced him to endure several more stabbings before she'd become bored of the sport, taking to taunting him instead. Now he lay there, weak and sweaty and covered in his own blood, unable to articulate anything more than a simple wheeze. His tired, resigned eyes followed her as she walked around him, pacing from one side of the bed to the other. She seemed to be contemplating something, her eyes shifting from him to Fred, the gears in her brain winding.

As if suddenly coming to an inner conclusion, she spoke aloud.

"This isn't any fun," she sighed heavily, waving her hand and freeing Angel of his bonds. He just laid there, still immobile, not wanting to move any part of his body for fear it would reawaken a resting nerve.

"I've been doing all the work. Perhaps I should let Angelus do some of it," she hinted, moving on top of the weakened Angel. All he could do was eye her, pure dread in his eyes at the mention of his soulless alter-ego, "I'll let Angelus have the fun with little Fred...she'll just be the appetizer," she eyed Fred momentarily, the looked back down at Angel, her hand already over his dead heart, "Your friends will be the main course."

Angel tried to move, tried to get away from what he was sure she could do. She could turn him into the very creature she'd been saving him from; she could destroy his friends with _his_ help. Hope smiled at his frantic eyes.

"Oh, don't worry, my love...it doesn't hurt all too much," she let her face change over, her fangs catching the filtered sunlight.

She bent over and sank her fangs into his neck, her hand glowing. Fred watched as the glow under her hand spread throughout Angel's body, leaving through the wound Hope had created on his neck. She was, from what it looked like, sucking his soul out of him. Angel made one last grab at Hope, trying to push her off his chest, trying to spare Fred. She only drank from him with more thirst, more passion, the silver glow flowing into her mouth.

Hope pulled away viciously as if afraid to keep drinking. Her breath was shallow and fast, her body soaking up the power she had just consumed. Placing both her hands on Angel's chest, she let some of her own energy flow into him, sealing up his wounds.

He eyed her, his own cold desires surfacing. With her still on his lap, Angelus leaned up and kissed Hope, grabbing her forcefully. They kissed, his own blood still remaining in her mouth and passing between them. Hope pulled away first.

"Hello, lover," she whispered coldly.

Angelus winced as he felt the Holy Water under his skin, singing exposed muscles. He eyed Hope, "Didn't feel like taking care of that, did you?" he asked.

Hope knew full well what he was referring to. She shook her head, still on his lap, "I thought we could have fun with that later," she whispered suggestively.

In the corner, Fred eyed the two of them with pure horror. Things had gone wrong...terribly wrong. And she was alone with two murderers.

* * *

Michael braced himself on the nearest pew, his mind overwhelmed by what he was feeling.

Willow walked over to him and help him straighten, "Michael...what's wrong?"

He eyed her fearfully, "She brought back Angelus."

Willow turned to look at Buffy, knowing now it wasn't a matter of saving Hope...but a matter of saving Hope, Fred and Angel. And with the odds the way they were, she had to admit, things weren't looking too good.

Buffy inhaled deeply, "We have to get Winifred."

"How do you want us to do that?" Michael snapped.

"We find them and get to her before Hope and Angelus do," she answered.

"Status check: we don't know where they are," Xander pointed out.

"Oh, we'll find them," Buffy said, looking angrily at Michael.

He only eyed her, knowing the burden fell on him.

* * *

Hope slid off Angelus, "A meal?" she asked.

Angelus eyed her, then Fred. His face changed over, his eyes gleaming yellow in the room. He suddenly grabbed at Hope, kissing her full on the lips. Hope gave in for a moment, her nails digging into his arms as he kissed her. Angelus turned violently and pushed Hope down onto the bed, bracing himself over her.

"I want my dessert first," he growled, "Dinner later."

Hope smiled and eyed Fred momentarily.

She was gone.

Angelus smiled, "Where'd you put her?" he asked.

Hope cocked an eyebrow, "The closet," she turned her head slightly to hear Fred pounding on the door, her voice filled with panic.

With that, Angelus grabbed at Hope's wrists and pinned her down; the bedcovers were wet with leftover blood and made a squish sound. The blood seeped into Hope's clothes and she gasped in pure pleasure while Angelus pressed his pant-covered pelvic against hers. She twisted her wrists once and broke free of his pinning grip, rolling over and taking off her shirt, leaving her bra there to taunt him with the unseen. Her face and his matched perfectly and she raked his chest with her fangs. He grabbed at the back of her head, grabbing a handful of hair and pushing her face forwards to kiss him. His tongue slipped past her fangs and found his own blood on hers. She bit down gently, her teeth catching his tongue and holding him there while she ran her tongue around his. She let go slowly and moved her mouth down to his ear, tugging at the earlobe. She bit it.

Angelus growled, letting go of her and shoving her away slightly. She landed on the bed next to him and he pinned her again after touching his bloody ear.

"That wasn't very nice."

"You liked it."

"No wonder soul-boy sank into you."

"Hmm. Who wouldn't?"

He dove down into her mouth and kissed her again, moving his kiss along her jaw and neck viciously. He dug his fangs in Hope's ample neck and let the smallest trickle of blood make its way into his mouth.

With a fury, Hope shoved him aside.

"No sweets for you," she said, running her fingers across the puncture wounds and healing them quickly.

Angelus eyed her, "Then what did you have in mind?" he asked, somewhat confused as to why Hope wouldn't let him drink.

Hope smiled, her mind pulling him towards her, "We could share the little twig," she suggested, running her finger down his exposed chest.

Angelus scoffed, "There's hardly enough for one."

Hope cocked an eyebrow, "We'll do her first...then we can hit the Slayer. Does that make my lover happy?" she asked.

"Why the twig? Why not start with something...stronger?" he suggested.

Hope shrugged, "I'm having a craving. Humor me," she demanded, her pleasantly seductive voice suddenly hard and cold.

Angelus smiled and walked towards the closet, opening the door to see Fred all the way in the back, the light on and showing the worried features on her face.

"Winifred," Hope smiled behind Angelus, "Welcome to the fun."

Fred made a dash across the bed, letting it separate the three of them for the moment. As Hope licked her lips and fangs, Fred made one last desperate attempt at freedom, running out into the bright living room. Hope was about to follow when Angelus summoned all of his strength and lunged at her, taking her down to the floor with a single blow

She and Angelus hovered over Fred, eyeing her. They both changed over, letting the vampire surface and licking their fangs. Fred eyed them both. Angelus was behind her, holding her shoulders; Hope was in front of her, ready to catch her if Angelus lost his grip. Hope opened her mouth wide and let her fangs graze Fred's skin, drawing the slightest amount of blood.

"Silly girl, thinking you'd survive being here. Silly girl," Hope whispered harshly.

With a final attempt, Fred struggled to free herself of Angelus' grip. It did nothing, only made Hope smile before she sank her glistening teeth into Fred's neck.

A sudden fire burned inside Hope and she felt pain swell inside her skin. She released Fred, staggering backwards.

Angelus eyed her, unsure of what was going on. He released Fred and walked over to Hope; her body was convulsing.

Angelus turned on Fred, "What did you do?" he asked.

Fred smiled, her hand to the neck wound, "She's poisoned. It'll knock her out for a while," she explained quickly.

Angelus growled.

Fred continued to smile, backing up against the wall, "And I'm guessing once she's out, Angel'll come back."

Angelus scoffed, "Don't think so, sweetheart," he advanced on her, ready to finish off what he and Hope had started.

Fred pulled down on the cord she'd taken a hold of. Sunlight filled the room and Angelus ducked to one side, his hand just beginning to char before he did so. Winifred continued to smile, grateful the sun was falling right on Hope.

As Hope was exposed to the bright sunlight, her consciousness slipped away from her, taking with her all control she'd had over Angel or Angelus.

Angelus gasped and fell to all fours, his soul being brought back from the depths it had been shoved to. Fred watched as the silver sheen from Hope's limp body gently refilled Angel, bringing with it his wounds and soulful nature. He lay there, wounded and in pain, tears forming at the corners of his eyes at the knowledge of what he'd done...or almost done.

"Angel?" she asked.

He could barely eye her, weak as he was, "Fred?" he asked, his voice rasp.

She gasped as the door to the bedroom was forced open. Gunn walked in and quickly hugged Fred, unable to make a mention about how glad he was that she was safe. He looked down to Angel.

Buffy walked in. Taken aback by Angel's unimaginable condition, Buffy quickly recovered and helped Angel up with his arm over her shoulders, his blood staining her white shirt and draining onto her skin.

"I guess it worked?" Fred asked timidly, moving closer to see Hope sprawled out on the floor, her eyes open and unfocused and her body limp.

Michael placed his hand on her neck and felt her diminishing pulse, "Yeah. It's working. The sun really is the Old One's gift."

"So, what now?" Fred asked, looking between those coming from the bedroom and Willow and Michael, who were hovering around Hope.

"Now, we wait. We need to get them back to the church, just in case. I'll take Hope back on my own. The rest of you get Angel there by car," Michael instructed, picking Hope up and closing his eyes. A moment later, they were gone in a quick paroxysm of golden sparks.

* * *

"Angel?" Hope's gentle voice reached his ears as he looked around himself, surrounded by blackness.

"Hope?" he spun, trying to find the source of her voice.

He saw her approach, a white light bathing her in innocence and love. He knew instantly that this was the Hope he'd come to need—not the one who had so brutally tortured him only hours before. He smiled warmly as she did.

"God, I've missed you so much," she said, a tear in her eye.

They embraced, "Feeling's mutual. What is this place?" he asked, looking around.

Hope smiled, "It's your dream. You tell me. I'm just here because you want me to be."

"What?" Angel asked in disbelief.

Hope seemed flustered, "I'm dying, Angel. I wanted to tell you...the First...It was the one torturing you. I tried to stop It...I did. It's too strong," she whimpered.

"When you came out of the coma you said you were in a dark place...all of that was the First...everything after that?" he asked.

Hope nodded, "I tried to fight It back. I wasn't strong enough."

Angel took Hope's shoulders and looked her in the eyes, "You're wrong, Hope. You can do so much...you help so many people. You can fight It. I know you can," he assured her.

She shook her head, "I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"I lost, Angel. How can fight It now?" she asked of him.

Angel was confused, "You lost?" he asked.

Hope looked away, ashamed, and tried to distance herself slightly from Angel, "It won again. And this time, It didn't just win the war…It won my body. It won over me. It had the power to restart my body."

* * *

Angel lay on the cleared off altar of the church, his blood dripping onto the floor and trailing down the legs of the table. Fred and Buffy were standing over him, cleaning out what wounds they could and placing gauze over those that wouldn't stop bleeding. Buffy eyed the red, swollen patches of skin where there was something under Angel's skin, burning him. Taking a small needle she'd found in the back storeroom, she pierced the red blister-like burns and tried to drain out the water she found there.

A small amount dripped onto his skin, "It's Holy Water," she looked to Fred as it sizzled.

Angel, far beyond the recognition of pain and partially sedated by Michael's help, just laid there, eyes unfocused and blank, his mouth ajar and his tongue dry.

One by one the blisters were opened and the Holy Water was drained from them. Fred felt revulsion knowing that it was Hope's hands that had put the painful liquid into him, had forced him to endure that terrible pain.

"Weakling," Hope said, her voice deep and demonic.

They all jumped. Hope had been unconscious. The poisonous cure had kept her out. Buffy and Fred looked at her; she was chained with mystical bonds to an altar on the side.

"He's stronger than you!" Fred argued.

"You think that. But he's the one passed out," she laughed demonically, her countenance that of the vampire within her.

Buffy leaned closer to Michael, "Why isn't she better yet?"

"It might take more time," Michael whispered.

"Wrong again, pretty boy. Wrong again," she laughed.

Michael just eyed her, knowing she'd heard him.

"You don't even know what you're infected with," Wesley said, sitting on a nearby pew.

"Of course I do. Purity. The Powers gave you a recipe for purity. But even they're blind."

"Purity heals everything," Michael answered.

"You can't heal purity with purity."

"No, you can't. But I doubt that you're so pure right now."

"You still don't get it, do you?"

Michael's face fell. Fred looked at him, walking closer, "Michael? What is she talking about?"

"Hope was never infected."

Hope laughed. The others looked to him. Willow kept her eyes on Hope, "What do you mean?"

"The First never infected Hope. It possessed her."

"Bravo, Mike. Let me tell you a little story. It opens with Hope, the purest light of beings, challenging the First, the purest dark. Only I won. Hope thought she had, but all I needed was a pure warrior's heart. So when little Hope nearly sacrificed herself for her champion, Angel, I had what I needed."

"You took over her body," Michael said warily, knowing the First was wearing her skin.

The First chuckled, "You fools. Thinking that I wouldn't reappear. I'm as much a part of this world as the light that warms the day. I know how to win my wars," It sneered, the deepness in Hope's voice overwhelming.

"Hope will fight you," Wesley said assuredly.

"Oh, she tried...at first. But then she gave into me like an old friend...arms open and a welcoming smile on her face."

"I don't believe you," Fred said, leaving Angel's side and coming nearer to Hope's body.

"Go ahead, then. Try to save Hope's soul. See if it works. Without your champion, you will accomplish nothing," the demonic voice chuckled.

Michael, Gunn, Fred, Wesley, Lorne, Buffy, Willow, Giles and Xander all turned to eye the unconscious Angel. And, as much as Michael didn't want to admit it, Angel was their best bet to bring Hope back from the depths the First had shoved her to.

"So, what do we do?" Willow asked.

Michael shook his head, eyeing the form of Hope, "We're dealing with an exorcism," he stated.

"I thought you said the Powers were going to help us," Gunn pointed out.

"They could help us rebalance Hope. But an exorcism is a different matter entirely. We don't need them to do that," Michael said strongly.

Buffy nodded, "Exorcism it is, then," she said, picking up a nearby cross.

* * *

"Hope, you have to fight for me," Angel tried to reach the strength he knew she had deep within herself.

She turned to face him, tearing, "I can't keep fighting, Angel. I tried. I can't do it by myself," she whimpered.

Angel took her by the shoulders again, "Then I'll help you fight."

"How? You're stuck here with me," she pointed out.

"You still have power, I can feel it. You can send me back...I can be out there with you...to help you win," he tried to figure out some way for it to become reality.

"I'm not powerful enough to pull that off, Angel. I'm not even in control of my own body...the First is," she reminded him, "Even if you were out there, It can't just be kicked from my body. We're not talking about a quick fix."

"Well, don't your powers have some kind of failsafe that came with them?"

Hope's furrowed brow turned into a smile, "No. But I have a reset button."

* * *

"Stupid, stupid Slayer," the deep voice echoed from deep with Hope's throat, "You think a cross can hurt me? I'm in Hope's body, little girl! I have no weaknesses."

Michael eyed the figure, "We'll find one...don't you worry," he promised.

A deep, guttural laugh came up from Hope's chest, "You try to destroy that which cannot be harmed. Why do you think I chose Hope as a vessel? Her strength...her powers...far surpass my own. In her I can touch and be touched...I can kill innocents with my own two hands."

"They're Hope's hands. And you don't have a right to use them," Angel said, sitting up.

Buffy ran over to Angel and helped to prop him up as he stood on his still-healing leg. He walked towards Hope and eyed her, knowing the First was the one looking back.

"You forgot one very important thing when you took her over," Angel said snidely.

The First laughed, "And what was that?"

Angel cocked an eyebrow, "The reset button."

"What reset button?" her voice asked.

A rustling and rearranging of bones and skin was heard as Angel gave way to the demon inside, letting his tongue pull back instinctually to avoid being pierced by the fangs he'd grown.

"Hope's," he smiled, leaning over and sinking his teeth deep into Hope's supple neck, tasting the blood that flowed freely. It was more powerful than before, all the more intoxicating.

"Angel!" Fred yelled, rushing for him.

Michael held her back, a small idea of what the plan was running through his head, "No, leave him be," he said, keeping a trained eye on Hope's body. 

Angel reeled back, feeling the full-blown effects of draining Hope's body of her blood. He stumbled, his body trying to cope with the immense power surging through him. Buffy caught him and steadied him, trying to understand what was happening. They both fell to the floor, Angel's body convulsing. He twisted in pain, his skin glowing. Buffy tried to hold him still, her strength barely able to manage the task. On the altar, Hope's body convulsed and shook with a glowing red light.

"What's happening?" Giles asked, looking to Michael.

Michael shook his head, "I don't know," he admitted.

All was silent a second later. The wails of the First were gone and Angel's brush with her powers left him weak.

The group looked on with unknowing doubt. Michael walked up next to her and saw that she was lifeless. There was no pulse, no grace...no mind to behold. She gasped. Coming back to life, she tore from the bonds holding her. She slid down from the altar and backed away.

"Hope?" Michael asked.

Angel tried to sit up. Hope's frantic eyes darted from one person to another. But he could feel it was her. There was nothing blocking her purity. Nothing blocking her light.

"Hope. It's us."

Her labored breathing started to calm. Her eyes fell to him. There was a spark of recognition. But it was only a spark. She only calmed down for a moment.

"Hope, do you know who we are?" Michael asked.

"It's empty. It's all empty."

"Hope, do you remember us?" Wesley asked.

"Pockets full of posies."

"I think we can take that as a no," Gunn sighed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Buffy gently wiped away the sweat from Angel's forehead with a damp washcloth. He looked so pathetic, so worn and used up. But she knew he would recover. He always did. Drinking from Hope had affected him more than he'd thought it would. He'd been out for the rest of the night. He'd seen Hope be…insane…and then he was gone.

"How is he?" Willow asked, walking in to his bedroom.

Buffy sighed, "No change, really," she allowed, keeping her eyes on Angel.

"I just came back from Hope's room. She's getting there. She's still a little...freaked out. It'll probably be a few days before she's up and about," the Wiccan said, placing a small water bowl on Angel's nightstand for Buffy to make use of.

"What're the guys doing?"

Willow shrugged, "Giles and Wesley are catching up over a pot of tea."

"What do you think happened back there?"

"I don't know. There was a lot of energy floating around. Powerful stuff. But when he drank from her, it all kinda condensed."

"And she went wacko."

"He did say it was the reset button."

"Didn't know humans had those."

"I guess they come standard with gods."

* * *

Michael kept an eye on Hope as she wandered around her room, seemingly interested in every little detail there was to offer. Gunn stood near the door and watched her intently. She acted as if she'd never seen anything before...as if the world was all new to her.

Hope picked up a picture frame and looked at the picture inside. She seemed to trace the figures inside the frame, unsure of what they were and what they meant. Holding tightly onto the wooden frame, she started to put too much pressure on the glass. It started to crack at the point of her finger and the cracks spread to the corners of the frame.

Still confused, she continued to hold onto the glass and wood with equal pressure. Unable to take it anymore, the glass shattered and cut into Hope's hands. She seemed unfazed. With blood dripping onto and under the glass and staining the picture, she just replaced it on her dresser, looking at her hands with renewed curiosity.

"Hope?" Gunn asked, seeing her blood drip and stain the carpet.

She looked up at him, "I am mortal?" she asked, eyeing the blood.

Michael took a step closer to her, "No...but you can be hurt. Don't you remember?" he asked.

Hope chuckled suddenly, a memory popping up inside her mind, "I was in blue dress," she smiled at him, the blood no longer important.

"That was prom," Michael filled in the gap for her, knowing she was referring to the dress she'd worn the night Cullen had been killed.

"I looked like a princess," she smiled nostalgically, her eyes closed in the memory.

"What else do you remember?" Michael asked, trying to get her to explore more of her own mind.

She continued to smile peacefully, her eyes focused on him, "I remember roses...and I see thousands...all stretched out in a field...I was running through them. They didn't have thorns…," she trailed off.

Gunn looked to Michael for help with that one.

Michael smiled slightly, "When she was a child, she used to dream of roses all the time. That's how the Old One knew she was the perfect candidate. That was when she first used her powers...to make one of her dreams into reality. A field of roses."

"A rainbow field of roses!" Hope corrected him, "All blue and red and yellow and white...some pink and some orange...so beautiful."

"Do you remember Angel?" Gunn asked.

Hope seemed to dig deep down into her own mind, trying to find what Gunn was asking her about. She eyed nothing, focused on some memory she was seeing for the first time, "It was snowing...I made it snow. He was upset...he was sad. I made it snow to cheer him up," she smiled, knowing she'd done something good.

Michael nodded, "That's right. You saved him...do you remember?" he prompted.

Still lost in her memories, Hope continued to smile, "He was in a bad place...I pulled him out of it...I brought him to earth," she rambled.

Buffy eyed Hope, just coming in to see for herself how she was doing. Almost knowing what she was referring to, Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and took a step closer to Hope.

"Where was he when you saved him?" she asked.

Hope frowned intensely, "A bad...bad place. Fire and pain...screams...tears...I saved him from it. I brought him here...to you," she focused solely on Buffy. Her frowned lightened, "I gave him to you to take care of...you helped him after I saved him. He loved you. He cried," she remembered, a smile starting to play on her lips.

Buffy remembered. He'd come back and saved her. Stuck in the Hell she'd sent him to, he came back and fell to his knees in front of her, grabbed her at her waist and cried, whimpering her name. Buffy felt her own tears well up in her eyes at the memory. At the thought that they'd once been so close.

"You saved him from Hell," she said aloud, accepting it.

Michael eyed Buffy, knowing it was hard for her to think of all the hard times she and Angel had gone through, "Hope...she's Angel's protector. His guardian angel," he said simply, the words sounding so obscure in context.

Hope seemed lost in a memory again, "I saved the other one, too. I gave him the spark…" she rambled.

Buffy's eyes went wide, "Spike?" she asked.

"William...he went to Africa...I gave him the spark…" she trailed off.

Michael saw Buffy's distressed eyes, "She's rambling. Everything she's done is coming back to her. She's remembering everyone she saved...everyone she helped," he tried to explain.

"Not dead...never dead. All flames and ashes and screams...hands together," she looked at her own hand and Buffy and the others backed away as flames formed on her right hand. Her attention was focused on Buffy. Her eyes seemed to be Spike's.

Buffy bridged the gap between her and Hope and placed her hand in the goddess'. The flames hurt, but she knew something was happening.

Hope suddenly retracted her hand and stepped away from Buffy, evidently feeling some new memory rise up inside of her.

Breathing heavily and shell-shocked, Hope looked down at the floor, "Can we rest, now? Buffy, can we rest?" her voice seemed shaken and tired.

A tear dropped onto Buffy's cheek and she turned and walked out of the room.

Gunn watched her leave, then turned to look at Hope; she was frantically eyeing the room.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Michael sighed, "She's not just remembering...she's experiencing it all."

* * *

Angel's eyes opened slightly. Willow smiled, "Hey…" she trailed off, her voice soft.

He focused on her, "Willow?" he asked.

"It's me," she said cheerily.

"What happened?" Angel asked, trying to sit up and feeling an ache in every part of his body.

"Well, you drank from Hope...then you just passed out," Willow explained.

"Hope? How is she?" he quickly pulled himself out of bed and pulled on a fresh shirt.

Willow shrugged, "She's not all better...but she's not evil," she said vaguely.

"Not all better?" he asked, moving quickly out of his room.

"Well…"

Angel rushed down the flights of stairs separating him and Hope, running into her room to see her crouched in a corner, tracing invisible items on the wall dementedly.

"Hope?" he asked.

Michael looked to him, "Her mind...it's starting to come back. She's remembering and experiencing everything," he tried to explain.

"The reset button."

"It saved her, but…when you drank from her, you pulled out everything. She has to regain it all. It could take a while for her to get back to normal," he said.

Angel swallowed hard, "Everything's there...I can feel it. She just can't reach it," he took another step towards her.

She shimmied away from him, her teeth clenched and her hands balled into tight fists.

"You drinking from her gave you a view into everything she is. You two were connected before...but now…" Michael trailed off.

"Hope?" Angel asked softly.

She looked up at him, "Fight the good fight," she said.

"Hope?" he asked again.

A smile came onto her face, "You got the brush-off," she chuckled.

Angel remained confused. He looked over his shoulder at Michael, "How long was I out?" he asked.

"Not even a day," he answered.

"Captain Peroxide...he got the cookie," Hope continued to smiled.

Angel forced himself to smile at the mention of Buffy choosing Spike to wear the pendant. He crouched down in front of Hope and took one of her hands in his.

A flash of coherence appeared in Hope's eyes. She stared at Angel intently, "Liam?" she asked softly.

Angel nodded, "It's me. I'm here," he gently leaned forward and let his lips touch hers.

The kiss was polite at first. But Angel felt Hope's mind switch over. His kiss turned on her memory fully and powerfully. Her hands were at his neck, holding him tightly. He took her hands in his and felt the warmth in them, knowing that Hope was truly inside the woman he was kissing.

They parted and he caught the spark in her eyes. She remained stoic.

"I remember," she said softly.

He smiled, "Hope?"

Her face drowned in the complete memories she was experiencing. She exhaled sharply, "Oh, God. I remember," she looked down, away from Angel.

"It's okay. It wasn't you," he tried to sooth her, feeling the anguish inside of her.

"It was me. I let it happen," she said, her voice panicked.

"Everything's fine now," Angel tried to get her to look at him.

She did, pure shock in her eyes and voice, "Fine? Nothing's fine, Angel. All of this happened because of me. I let it happen," she repeated to herself, her eyes focusing inwards.

Angel shook her shoulders gently, "No, you didn't," he said pointedly, trying to get the fact into her head.

She pushed him harshly, forcing him to land several feet away on his rear, "Get away from me!" she yelled, tears in her eyes.

"Hope...we don't blame you," Michael said, trying to calm her down.

Hope stood, stressed and lost, "I can't stay here," she whimpered, walking past Angel.

He tried to make a grab at her as he found his feet, "Hope!"

Her mind not in complete control of her reflexes, she swiped at him, sending him hard into the wall. Realizing what she'd done, she ran out of the room and out of sight.

Angel recovered quickly, wincing as he stood, "We have to go after her," he said, starting down the stairs.

Michael chased after him, stopping him before he could make it to the doors, "No, let her be," he instructed.

Angel turned on him, "She needs me," he argued, drawing the attention of Xander, Fred, Giles and Wesley in the atrium.

"She needs to be alone," Michael insisted.

"Are you trippin'?" Gunn asked harshly.

"Hope is facing everything she inadvertently allowed to happen. Being what she is, that is a terrible blow to her. She'll come around. Right now, Buffy needs you," Michael lowered his voice confidentially.

Angel softened his hard glare and walked up towards Buffy's room—finding it by following his nose. He followed her scent up to the second floor and rapped his knuckles gently on the door. There was no answer, but he knew she was in there.

He opened the door slowly. Buffy was standing in the middle of her room, wiping away fresh tears she didn't want him—or anyone else—to see.

"Buffy?" he asked.

She turned to face him quickly, "Angel? How are you feeling?" she asked, trying to seem cheerful.

Angel shrugged, then, "I should be asking you that."

She smiled disarmingly, "I'm fine."

He nodded, "You know, people like you and me can't lie well—at least not to one another," he admitted, closing the door behind him.

Buffy forced herself to accept that. "I never knew...after all this time—we never knew who brought you back from Hell," she said simply, breaking into the conversation quickly.

"Now we do. I owe her a lot," Angel said.

"The things she said...I just never thought they'd hit me that hard."

"What'd she say?" Angel asked.

Buffy sat on the corner of the bed and sighed, "Things about us...about Spike...about me," she stopped herself once she saw Angel's face go sour at the mention of Spike.

"I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Don't be."

She laughed once in spite of the situation, "You know, in all of this turmoil, I miss him."

Angel sat on the bed next to her, "When I came to see you in Sunnydale, when you told me about Spike...the first thing that went through my mind was jealousy."

Buffy eyed him.

Angel smiled embarrassedly, "He had a soul, he had your affections...he got to be with you in the big fight. He was the knight in shining armor...not me."

Buffy looked ahead, still teary-eyed, "You would've been proud of him, Angel. The way he changed...the way he tried to protect me."

Angel remained silent.

"Being in Europe these last few weeks, I kept so busy to keep my mind off him. A part of me loves him for what he did. Another part of me hates him because he died and left me here...alone. I'm surrounded by so many people...but I feel so alone," her eyes were overflowing as she stared steadfastly ahead, trying not to cry.

"I know the feeling," Angel admitted.

Buffy smiled wanly, "So, what do we do now? Hug?" she asked sarcastically.

He leaned in and kissed her passionately. As she returned the kiss, he realized what he was doing. He pulled away slowly and eyed her, "Something along that line," he smiled, "You know, if you want to stay here for a while...we've got plenty of rooms," he said awkwardly.

"It's nice to be back home...close to it, anyway. But I wouldn't want to get between you and Hope. She needs you," Buffy said bravely.

"Doesn't look like it," Angel sighed heavily.

"What do you mean?"

"Hope got her memory back. She took off. I don't think she'll be back for a while."

"You have to go after her, Angel."

"And do what? Force her to come back and stay here?"

"Show her how much you believe in her. Before you came to Sunnydale, Spike said something to me. It gave me the strength I needed to face the Hell around me and get the job done. She needs that strength, Angel. You're the one who has to give it to her," Buffy looked Angel in the eyes, taking his hand for a moment.

* * *

"Listen up, guys," Angel said strongly, walking down the final flight of stairs.

They all looked up to see him and Buffy, steadfast and rejuvenated.

"We're gonna find Hope. She's lost and confused. We can't let her stay that way," he said officiously, pulling on his long leather jacket.

"Angel, Hope wants to be alone," Michael insisted.

"Maybe. But she doesn't need it. We're gonna split up. Michael—you'll provide transportation. One supernatural in each group."

Michael approached Angel, some anger coming through his calm exterior, "You're forgetting who outranks whom."

Angel cocked an eyebrow; "Her being alone and confused is what got us into this mess in the first place. The First dragged her into Hell to take control of her. I won't let her create one for herself. She's better than that," Angel argued quietly, "Now, if you don't want to help, get the hell out of my way."

Angel took a step past Michael. With his back still to Angel, Michael sneered, "You forget your place, vampire."

Angel stopped, turned, and faced him, "Between the two of us, I'm the only one who knows it."

"We'll be in four groups," Buffy took control, "Xander, you're with me. Willow, Wesley, you take 1st avenue and north. Giles, Fred, you're with Angel. You'll be taking the demon district south of here. Lorne, Gunn...take the sewers. See what you can dig up," she said simply.

"If you find her, don't force her to do anything. Just give me a call. Track her if you have to. If we can't find her by sunrise, we'll met back here and see what else we can do," Angel spared one last look at Michael, "Coming?"

Michael's look was venom, "I'll pass."

He disappeared in a blast of golden flames, his anger going with him. Angel looked to Fred and Giles, "Let's go."

* * *

Hope wandered the streets, trying not to bring attention to herself. She didn't want to be noticed, she didn't want to be seen. All she wanted was Angel, but she knew she couldn't face him after everything that had happened. It was all her fault and she knew it.

She turned the corner and walked down the alley towards the next cross street. On the other side of the one-way road was a manhole she recognized. She walked through the dead street and lowered herself into the manhole while the cover was on.

* * *

"Can you sense her?" Wesley asked, following Willow.

Willow kept her white-irised eyes ahead, "I can feel something. I think it's her. All I can sense is a power...a good power."

"I doubt there're too many of those to lead us off Hope's trail."

"So, you think we'll find her?" Willow asked.

"Only if she lets us," Wesley sighed.

"Angel really cares about her, doesn't he?" Willow eased into the subject.

"In more than one way. Hope… has given him a reason, I suppose. A reason to keep fighting. He's her champion. The fact that he's a vampire doesn't bother her."

* * *

"You has came," the small creature looked up at Hope.

She eyed it dejectedly for a moment, feeling some urge to drink and fill the craving that was making its way to her mind, "Why?" she asked it.

"You've ask why. This true question be how?"

"Then how? How did all of this come to pass? I never saw it coming," she pointed out.

"Ahhh, the sight had fails you. He tests you to seen what had happened. You had pass," the Record Keeper smiled joyfully.

"Passed?" Hope asked incredulously, "I killed people...innocent people!" she yelled, looking down and crossing her hands over her chest.

"The First kills innocents. You had never killing innocents. You always saves innocents. That be why you'd passing."

"Because I let the First take control of my body?" she asked harshly.

"Because you'd fought for Angel. You lets Angel helping you. Taking great strengths to let demon helped you."

Hope took in the words and felt some sense of betrayal. The Old One had known all of this would happen and hadn't forewarned her about it. Even if it was a test, He should've told her something was coming. Something!

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't be my places."

"Your job is to keep me informed of the universe, Record Keeper!" she reminded him.

"Mine orders come from the Old One that times. I has no choice."

"He put you up to this?"

"That he had do."

Hope sighed heavily, feeling so adrift. She eyed the smaller demon for a moment more, then made her way back to the exit. She didn't want anything to do with those of her rank—those who were supposed to help her. Those who should've helped her.

She walked through the crowded streets to see people walk by, rushing about and getting last minute groceries and whatnots before the true night came down upon the city. The sky was still a darkening purple, the last colors of the orb fading into blackness. Streetlights started to come on one by one as their timers kicked on.

With her hands in her pockets and trying to watch where she was going, Hope made her way to a little alley. She didn't want to go to the hotel. She didn't want to go to her apartment. All she wanted was to feel safe and secure again—to know that all of this was a dream and she'd never been invaded by the First.

She sat there, her knees pulled tight to her chest, and felt tears well up in her eyes uncontrollably. She made a furious wipe at them but more came to replace the ones she'd angrily taken away. She pulled the clothes on her tighter, closer, trying to keep her cold skin warm even though the air around her was sweltering.

She cried.

"Oh, poor baby, don't cry," a deep, masculine voice called out to her.

She looked up quickly to see a pair of yellow eyes coming at her from the shadows of the alley. She could make out the form of a human, the face distorted and ready to feed. She knew there was no threat, but she still felt so vulnerable.

"Okay, you're a vampire. Big deal," she quipped.

"Don't you wanna run?" he asked, taking another few steps towards her.

The craving she'd had in the Record Keeper's presence seemed to grow now that there was a demon in front of her. She stood; in the darkness, her face changed. Bones morphed and teeth elongated.

She eyed the confused vampire, "I should ask you that."

* * *

"Can you smell anything?" Fred asked Angel as he walked through the streets of L.A. with her and Giles close in tow.

He took a deep breath in; there were so many people around that, even with his enhanced nose, he couldn't smell Hope. If she had been wounded, it would have been easier. But she wasn't. Her body had no real scent of its own and that made tracking her all the more difficult in a crowd.

"Nothing," he said in disappointment.

"Do you know of any place she might have run off to?" Giles asked, keeping his eyes peeled.

Angel shook his head, "She wouldn't go to her apartment—too many memories. Bars...no, same reason."

"Where else would she go?" Fred asked, disheartened.

"Somewhere she felt safe. Somewhere she was alone," Angel said knowingly.

* * *

"Man, how'd we get stuck with sewer duty?" Gunn asked tiredly, keeping his eyes ahead.

"Luck of the draw, Charles. Besides, I can't go topside with my not-so-human-but-extremely-handsome features."

"Can't you find her by her powers?" Gunn asked.

Lorne shrugged, "It's worth a try. But I doubt she'd be using her powers at a time like this."

Gunn eyed him expectantly, stopping as he waited.

Lorne closed his eyes and tried to feel what he could with his anagogic mind. He reached out as far as he could...but nothing.

He shook his head.

Gunn sighed, "So, we do this the old fashioned way."

* * *

"Don't worry, Angel. I'm sure we'll find her," Fred tried to reassure the vampire, seeing how antsy and anxious he was.

"We can't leave her alone, Fred. I can feel how afraid she is. How disgusted she is with herself. She needs us," he looked to Giles for a moment, "All of us."

"Well, perhaps we should check with local establishments...see if they've—"

Angel cut him off, running off to an alley on his left. Fred and Giles followed. The three of them stopped short upon seeing two figures in the darkness.

Hope and her victim.

Angel eyed her, knowing—with some thankfulness—that she wasn't victimizing a human. He could smell the demon in her grasp. Her mouth was at the vampire's neck, blood draining slowly from the puncture wounds. She seemed too into her feeding to notice Angel watching, horrified.

But it made sense. She'd tasted demonic blood when the First took control of her body. It had left a craving in her. Just like his exposure to her blood left him with the same results. Weaning her back to human foods would be no easy task.

"Hope?" he asked almost inaudibly.

Her head shot up, her vampiric face threatening in the oncoming moonlight. Blood dripped onto her blouse and her eyes showed her fear at being caught.

Her face changed back and she seemed to realize just what she'd done.

She hastily and disgustedly threw the carcass off her bent legs and moved away from it into the darker shadows of the alley. Her panicked breathing was audible even to Fred and Giles. Angel kept his hands where she could see them if she chose to, hoping not to frighten her.

"Hope?" he repeated her name.

Her eyes met his, "I didn't mean to," she whimpered.

"It's okay. I'm here now," he smiled wanly.

"No. I don't want you to see me!" she said determinedly, her voice still quivering.

"Let's go back to the hotel, Hope," he tried to veer away from the subject of what he'd seen.

"Can't go back. I can never go back," she pulled her knees up to her chest again, whimpering.

"We can, Hope. You can come back with us and we can be a family again," he promised her.

She looked up to him, her watery eyes red from crying, "No. You're just saying that," she moved away from him, quickly getting to her feet.

"We miss you, Hope. Please, come back with us," Fred pleaded, knowing she was on the verge of running again.

"What I did…" she trailed off.

"It wasn't you, Hope. It wasn't," Angel assured her.

She stepped away from him again, "I can't do this."

"We're not asking you to do anything, Hope. Just come back with us," Fred smiled warmly, trying to win her trust.

"You don't understand," she raised her voice slightly.

Angel took another step towards her, "I do, Hope. I understand. I've had to deal with Angelus...remember? I know what you're feeling."

"No...you don't."

He nodded, "Yes. I do. I can feel you up here," he tapped his right temple.

He took another step towards her and she didn't shirk away from him, the distance between them becoming smaller.

"Please, just come back with us. We'll keep you safe," Fred assured her, looking between Angel's back and Hope's terrified face.

"Safe?" she asked, some sarcasm in her voice.

Angel nodded, "Safe. The First can't get to you anymore," he smiled genuinely.

Her face turned into a paroxysm of fear and sardonic guilt, "What do you know about _safe_? You know _nothing_!" she hissed.

Angel stopped moving closer to her, "I care about you, Hope. That's all I need to know," he said softly.

She shook her head and turned, running down the alley.

Angel broke out into a sprint and followed. He didn't miss a beat when she started to climb up the wall of the apartment building on the left; he followed her up, taking only a moment to realize that the others wouldn't be able to follow. He ran across the rooftop after her, seeing her become smaller—she was faster than he was, driven by pure fear and anguish. She made a leap over another alleyway, the building across the way lower than the one they were both on. Angel, a few seconds later, made the same leap. Upon landing on the other rooftop, he saw Hope. The First had her by the neck. It wasn't in some guise. It was in it's own, demonic, black and red visage. It smiled and looked at him. It faced him with Hope's toes barely brushing the rooftop.

"Let her go."

"Angel, help—"

It shook her and she cut herself off. She was trying to keep her windpipe open. He approached the two of them.

"You want me? Fine. But let her go."

"Why have a general when you can kill one?"

They disappeared.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Angel took out a broadsword. He walked past the others in the atrium to get his coat in his office. Buffy followed him, still arguing that he shouldn't go alone. But he'd made up his mind. He had to do whatever it took. Hope had done it. It had cost her. He wasn't about to let her stay with the First, wherever It had taken her.

"You are not going alone!" Buffy grabbed Angel by the arm.

"You don't get to decide that, Buffy!" he shot back, pulling his long coat off the hanger in his office, "I need to do this alone."

"We're here to help you!" she followed him out to the atrium.

Angel sighed in exasperation, "There's nothing you can do. I'm the only one who can go where I'm going," he said tiredly.

"The Record Keeper?" Wesley asked, leaning against the counter and eyeing the scene with sad, tired eyes.

Angel nodded.

"The who?" Giles asked.

"A mystical creature that keeps track of everything and everyone in the universe. Past, present and future. Only non-humans can enter his presence," Wesley said slowly.

"Will he know where the first took Hope?" Fred asked.

Angel eyed her, "If he doesn't, I don't know who would," he admitted.

"I'm still going with you," Buffy said strictly, walking up alongside him as he started towards the basement door.

Angel spun on her, taking her by the shoulders and forcing her back towards the atrium, "Stay here. I need someone who can fight to keep an eye on things. Protect them," he said officiously, glancing quickly at his friends.

Buffy didn't argue with that. She watched him disappear into the basement, going alone to a place that sounded spotty at best. He was doing it for her…for Hope. Whatever she was facing, wherever she was, she was alone and scared. And Buffy knew that Angel would do whatever it took to find and save her.

* * *

The sewer opened up into an access tunnel to the abandoned subway tunnel he'd found Hope in one time. He knew now that the cave in at the end of the tunnel was in fact the entrance to the Record Keeper's lair. Although he knew where the manhole was, there was no cover of shade to let him get there. This—and facing that monster of a thing—was his only option.

He saw the rock slide up ahead and paused as soon as he realized that the monster that had been guarding the entrance last time wasn't there. He approached cautiously, just in case, and placed his hands on the rocks. They went through.

He heard footsteps behind him.

He turned to see the monster that had been there last time.

"Listen, I'm just trying to find Hope…again," he added, ready to dodge a blow.

The thing just eyed him sympathetically, no utterance of pain or condolences. All it did was move away, as if knowing Angel wasn't there to barge in against Hope's wishes. It walked away, disappearing into nothingness.

Angel backed into the faux rock wall and found himself covered in the mist of the Record Keeper's lair. He looked around and saw no rock, no puddle…but, more importantly, no Record Keeper.

"Record Keeper!" he yelled out; his voice echoed in the nothingness.

Here was a shuffling of feet as a response. The alien-like being walked out from behind a misty wall. It eyed Angel and sighed.

"If the Young One was not in dangering I've will hurting you."

"You know where she is?" he asked, approaching the smaller being.

It shook It's head glumly, "No. I did not."

"You're lying!" Angel grabbed the thing, bringing It up to eye level, "Didn't you ever learn not to lie to a vampire? We can tell," he smiled.

"I aren't scare of you. What you'd looks for I couldn't telling."

"Why? Why can't you tell me?"

It smiled, "All is test. All is test. The Young One has passing her test," It eyed Angel, "Will you be passes yours?"

"What kind of test?" Angel shook It once.

"Ones you is not learned to passing. That not be your jobs…to learned. What you seeking He knew and am sharing."

" "He"?" Angel asked.

The creature nodded.

"The Old One? Will He tell me where Hope is?" Angel asked urgently.

"First you has summoned Him. He wouldn't came for you. You must've summon Him," it repeated.

"How do I do that?" Angel asked.

It smiled toothily, It's jet-black eyes sparkling in the light, "You might've be finding out."

Angel shook the being again, "That doesn't help. Now tell me how to summon the Old One!"

"Finding the Callers would helping you. There's nothing else to been telling you," It said; with enormous strength, it kicked away from Angel and landed back on misty ground. Angel eyed it.

"Tell me one thing: will Hope be all right?" he asked.

The Record Keeper seemed to think for a moment; It eyed Angel sadly, "Only you could helping her. Only you can be knowing that answer. My worked is done."

"But you should know," Angel called after It as it started to walk away.

It paused and faced him again, "You must found the Callers. You must saving her."

With that, the Record Keeper vanished.

Angel exhaled deeply, turning back the way he had come in.

* * *

"Angel?" Fred asked, seeing her friend come in with stowed features and thin lips.

He took off his coat and threw it on the counter, "I want everyone doing research. We need to find the Callers," he said without responding to Fred.

"Is that how we get Hope back?" Gunn asked.

Angel shook his head, "That's how we get The Old One to tell us how to get her back," he said, starting towards his office.

Buffy ran up beside him, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Old One? As in God, Old One?"

"I think I covered that with Old One."

"You want to call on the ultimate power?" Lorne asked, standing.

"He knows where Hope is and how to get her back."

"Yes, we understand that. But we're not talking about summoning some low-class demon. This is the man who gives Hope her orders. Not someone to be taken lightly," Wesley spoke up.

"Are you all deaf? We need to save Hope. Wherever she is, we need to get her back! I tried the Record Keeper. He can't help us. He told me to get the Old One. So that's what I'll do. Any other questions?" he asked harshly.

The others all stared at him; his voice was cold and his mind was set on doing this. But none of them were completely on the boat.

Willow took a step towards Angel, "I've read about the Callers," she said sheepishly.

Angel eyed her, some gratitude in his expression.

"They're nothing extraordinary. Just some little stones shaped like animals. Most people think they're trinkets. The ones in the stores are hacks…but the real ones are really detailed…they're always warm—"

"Everything she owned," Angel cut Willow off…thinking aloud.

"Angel?" Giles asked.

He looked at Giles, "When I first met Hope, she had a backpack with her. It had everything she owned in it. It must've held the Callers," he finished.

Not taking a moment to let himself doubt it, he ran behind the counter and grabbed two sets of keys. One to his car, the other to Hope's apartment. He tossed the first set to Gunn, "You're driving. Pick me up out back," he said, walking towards the back set of double doors.

"I'm coming," Willow walked out with Gunn.

"Find the ritual to call the Old One. We need to get this done," Angel said strongly to those remaining behind.

With that, he was gone, ready to be picked up by Gunn and Willow. Buffy sighed, knowing he wasn't going to listen to her any time soon. He was like that. He did things his way in his city. No matter she was the Slayer. No matter they still cared about one another. This was his call…and she would have to live with that. As long as it didn't kill them all.

* * *

Angel eyed the large high-rise; he envied Hope some times…having all this room to herself. She was lucky. To have a home of her own. Yes, the Hyperion was nice, but it was still a hotel. Here Hope had the best of the best. A world-class view. A hot tub on the balcony.

"Any idea where she'd keep theses things?" Gunn asked, pulling the shades closed.

Angel stepped into what would've been the highly lit living room. He shoved his hands in his pockets, "Just look in the cabinets…drawers…anywhere she could hide something."

"I'll check the guest room," Willow eyed the other doorway on the other end of the pent.

"I'll be in her bedroom," Angel said, walking out over that way.

Gunn shrugged, "I get the living room," he called out like it was something of importance.

Angel walked into the dim and solemn bedroom. It was a far cry from the first time he'd seen it. Hope had spent so much time personalizing this room, making it a semblance of her. The pictures on the wall were all of landmarks, the seven wonders, religious places all over the globe. Anything to tie her into nature and God in a city that knew nothing of either. The sheets were still bloodstained. The walls were a soft glass-like green with blood spatter. And the vanity.

On it were pictures of times past, things done, people known. Angel picked up a picture in a bamboo frame to see a Chinese empress inside. Another frame held a panoramic view of some mosque in Istanbul. The next was a soft, distressed blue frame with a picture of her and Michael, arms draped over each other's shoulders and smiling—in the background was the peak of a large mountain. Most likely K2 or Everest.

Then there were the pictures of her friends; one of the group, one of her and Fred shopping. One Gunn had taken at a moment when she and Wesley were researching something, both their heads stuck in books. The last few were of her and him. One she'd snapped during the time at the boardwalk. One was the two of them smiling widely, a big plate of eggs in front of them. He smiled at that memory.

Willow walked in. Angel compulsively put down the frame, sighing.

"I can't lose her, Will."

"You won't. We'll get her back," she smiled warmly.

"You're done searching the guest room?" he asked unsurely, knowing it hadn't been more than a few minutes.

"Yeah. I just did a mystical sweep. Nothing showed up in the room."

"Would they?"

"Yeah. The Callers have been around for millions of years. Do you want me to check this room, too?" she asked, knowing he hadn't gotten very far.

"Hey guys—" Gunn called out, stopping Willow in the motion of eyeing the room intently.

They both walked out into the living room to see him eyeing a set of stone animals, "You think these are the ones?" he asked.

Willow smiled, "Look real enough."

She picked one up and held it in her hand, shivering as some sort of energy passed through her. She smiled, feeling it embrace her.

"Yeah. These are them."

"All this time, they were right out in the open," Angel marveled.

Gunn shrugged, "Make some sense, don't it? Not like she'd get robbed. Even if she did, who'd pick up stone animals?" he theorized.

Willow eyed them, thinking. She put the green animal back where she'd found it. She took in the five of them, seeing them as more than just stones. They were religious relics. The real things. She caught a glimpse of the sunlight that filtered into the area.

"Angel, step aside," she said, moving towards the curtains.

He did so and Willow pulled the curtains back. The sunlight flooded the shelves, illuminating them with a heavenly glow.

The stones seemed to absorb the sunlight, taking it in and casting it back into the room, a power about the reflected rays. Willow placed her palm over the milky white one. She inhaled deeply as power fueled through her.

"I know how to summon Him. There's so much power…so much purity," she smiled, her irises white and glowing like the stone itself.

She pulled her hand away, the power leaving her, "Let's get them back to the hotel. I think we can do the ritual before sunset."

Gunn closed the curtains for her as Willow started wrapping each of the stones in cloth she'd brought with her, placing them carefully in a satchel draped over her shoulder.

* * *

Wesley held the blue dolphin in his hands, eyeing it and turning it, "These are the Callers?" he asked doubtfully.

Willow smiled, unpacking the others, "That they are."

Angel grabbed the dolphin from Wesley and placed it back on the circle pattern Willow had drawn out. He gave a reproving look. Wesley cocked an eyebrow.

"I wasn't doing anything to it," he protested.

"These belong to Hope."

Willow sighed, placing the last colored one, "Okay, if I got the right impression, they should start the process by themselves."

"By what? Them being in a square?" Xander asked.

Willow eyed him, "Each of them has a frequency. Putting the god-goddess symbol in the middle will call on the Old One."

With that, Willow placed the moonstone statuette in the middle of the quarter points. She backed away in mild uncertainty as the moonstone started to glow, the others sending a visible spectrum of energy into it. The five of them each came to life, the miniature animals walking towards the moonstone owl. The owl itself outstretched its wings and the other animals took a hold of them. Then there was a large flash of light.

"I see Hope has been careless with leaving those in open sights," a majestic voice said from behind the group.

Angel and the others turned to face the old man. He was bathed in white, a small white beard and a halo of white hair on His head.

"You all took great risks summoning me."

"You know why we did," Angel took a step forward.

The Old One seemed to sadden, "What you seek to save cannot be so."

"I won't accept that," Angel protested.

"I did not expect you would. But then, that is what makes you a defender of mankind. Hope chose well," He admired Angel for a moment, "Where Hope is not one of you can travel to safely. Even with Michael, you could not succeed."

"Then you help us," Angel demanded.

The Old One laughed, taking a moment to recover His breath, "You dare tell me what to do, Liam? Not a creature on earth sees me besides Hope. You dare speak to me like you were of her status. It's no wonder Hope pities your kind so."

Angel felt a hand close around his throat; he tried to speak, "I need her with me. You're telling me her being gone won't have any effect on the world?" he asked, taking another angle.

"Things would change, yes. But, sadly to say, not even Hope's presence in this world could keep all of you safe. Times will change. People will die. And you and your friends will face what challenges may come. Nothing Hope does could change that," His voice was tired and soft, resigned.

"Still, I need her here. She said she needed me and I'll be damned if I let her sit out eternity alone…afraid. The Record Keeper told me to come to You. I did that. I'm asking for Your help," Angel allowed, his voice just as sad.

The Old One took a few steps closer; He looked at the company Angel kept and sighed heavily. Then His gaze returned to Angel, "My help you shall have—" He said, waving His hand and knowing that a portal had opened behind Him, "This will lead you to where Hope is. I warn you that it is not a place many beings can handle—mentally or physically. You must bring her back from the pit she is in. Mere humans cannot accomplish this feat," He paused, eyeing Angel's friends again, "But, perhaps, champions can."

With that, the glow of the Callers was gone and so was the Old One. In front of them all was the portal. It loomed there, swirling and melding into the air around it. Angel eyed it, knowing it very well might close the moment he stepped through it.

But he didn't care.

He faced his friends, "I'm not asking any of you to come," he said solidly.

He watched as Gunn walked away.

And came back with an armful of swords, axes and a morningstar or two. He tossed a sword to Angel. Wesley grabbed an axe and a morningstar. Fred grabbed another sword, leaving the last for Gunn.

"Didn't have to," Gunn smiled.

Angel switched his grip on the sword, holding it downwards. Willow smiled, "You couldn't very well go on this trip without a witch, now could you?" she asked rhetorically.

"Or a Slayer," Buffy added.

Angel looked at Fred for a moment, almost wanting her to stay behind. She caught his gaze and shook her head.

"I'm not staying," she protested.

Angel nodded, "All right. Let's go," he said, walking towards the portal.

Giles watched them for a second, moving to the cabinet and grabbing a flail. Xander eyed him, "Geez—what're you trying to do? Make me look bad?" he asked the former watcher.

Giles smiled slightly at that one and pulled out a crossbow. He handed it to Xander and the two of them followed the main group towards the looming portal.

Angel sighed heavily, "Any chance of us being separated?" he looked to Wesley.

"This isn't the portal to Pylea. There's no knowing what could happen. I'd assume the Old One would've prevented that."

Angel faced the portal again, "Well, then, here goes nothing."

* * *

It was dark…hot…humid. Angel very much doubted any of the others could see. Even his eyes were having trouble making out his surroundings. He smelled blood in the air. Not all human but mostly. But he couldn't smell Hope.

"Willow?" he asked.

"Already ahead of you," she answered, her voice echoing in the darkness.

An orb of light gathered above their heads, illuminating the cavern they were standing in. Angel looked down at his feet and knew why he smelled blood.

The floor was swamped with it.

"Don't look down," he said, moving ahead.

"You ever notice how someone telling you that makes you _want_ to look down?" Xander asked.

Angel harrumphed, "No one asked you to come."

"If this woman is all you say she is, she's probably worth rescuing," Xander allowed.

They walked along, the blood sloshing at their feet and the sound of it sickening. They saw nothing worth mentioning, nothing worth defending themselves from.

Angel, leading the group, rounded the bend and stopped, taken aback by what he saw.

There were rows of crucified people.

"Oh my God," Willow spoke beneath her breath.

The victims whimpered in pain, some of them crying for god. Some were just silent, hanging their heads to whatever punishment this was.

"What is this place?" Fred asked as they started walking again.

"Hell," Angel said without hesitation.

Buffy eyed him, knowing he either recognized the place or just instinctively knew what it was. His own time in hell couldn't be so easily pushed aside.

Some of the people on the crosses looked down at them as they passed, speaking almost inaudibly, asking for help.

"There has to be something we can do to help them," Fred said, her voice displayed her distress.

"No," Angel said strongly, "Leave them be. They're here for a reason."

They continued on; it took all of Angel's strength to keep from succumbing to the crosses' power of him. He could feel his skin tingle, his demon screaming in nervous pain.

After the group made it past the crucified people, Angel turned to Willow.

"Can you find Hope down here?" he asked.

She shrugged, "I can try. This isn't the normal situation for it…" she trailed off.

"Try."

She closed her eyes and searched with her mind, reaching out with everything she had, trying to find that one mentality—that one ounce of pure and noble thought. Among all of the minds that were full of pain and anger and rage, there was one that seemed to stand out. It was sad and tried, pained but not angry. It was not the corrupt mind of those around it. Willow tried to pinpoint it, tried to find out where it was.

She opened her eyes and turned to face the large cavern they'd left behind.

"She's in there."

* * *

It had been what? Days? Minutes? Perhaps only seconds. But it felt like so long. Her hands hurt, her feet hurt. Her lungs were filled with fluids that never should've been there. Her bones were broken and no use to her. Her hair was matted to her face by blood and tears.

But she saw nothing.

She knew nothing.

It was all so…nothing-full.

It had put her here after what had seemed like hours in It's presence. She tried to fight back. She tried to get home. But, as she had somehow known, this wasn't home. This was the farthest thing from home. This was the First's domain. This was a hell-like setting where people who failed the First were placed.

But she had done worse than failed the First—she had fought against It. She was on the other team. For that, the First had been able to bruise and break her body all the more. And heaven knew it hurt so bad.

She saw a face but couldn't respond.

Her body was seemingly frozen, warmer than any of the others but still frozen. She wanted to cry out in pain, cry out in joy, cry out in angst. But she could do nothing. She'd been beaten too badly. She'd been demoralized too far. It knew she was now a nothing. She was a pulp of her former self, her former self being the goddess she was. No, she wasn't that being anymore. Now she was a nothing.

The face was upside down.

Her mind tried to think about that. The face in her face was upside down. Strange enough, but not unheard of. After all, everything else was upside down. But she wasn't. Her mind tried to think about that—No. No, she was the only thing upside down. It had put her upside down, letting her head become so heavy, her lungs so full.

Hours? Days?—maybe. Maybe only minutes…maybe only seconds.

She couldn't tell. She was beyond telling and knowing.

* * *

Gunn gagged, trying not to throw up that wonderful meal he'd had earlier. Behind him, Giles covered his mouth with a cloth handkerchief. All of the other people hadn't been this bad. Buffy and the others ran over in the small groups they'd split up into. Upon seeing what Gunn and Giles saw, they each seemed just as ready to discard their meals as them.

Angel eyed Hope, seeing her upside down and nude, her body broken and bleeding. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, her face a purple-red from being upside down for so long. Blood drained from her hanging open mouth, her lips close to being black. Her hands were tied and impaled to the wood beneath her head. Her hair was, for the most part, dangling onto her arms. Some of it stuck to her face and neck by the blood there. Each of her ankles had been nailed through, the nails crude and unpolished, the blood around them a dried black. Those wounds had let the blood seep down her legs and onto her torso.

He placed his fingers on her throat. There was a strong pulse, but she had stopped breathing. With a sudden fury, he ripped the nail out of her palms, hearing the dried blood crack as he did so; there was no response from Hope. She was too far gone to respond. He untied them, looking for anything for him to stand on and get to her ankles.

"Give me a boost," Buffy said strongly, looking to Angel.

He interlaced his fingers and lifted her up a ways, grateful she had come. He looked over his shoulder and eyed Gunn and Wesley.

"Get ready to catch her," he said simply.

Fred looked to Giles and started to take off his tweed jacket. He almost protested until he realized what she was doing. She and Willow brought Hope's limp arms through the sleeves, buttoning the jacket around her chest.

Buffy pulled the first nail out, the bones cracking even more. The other ankle became a pivot point and Hope dangled, swung until Gunn and Wesley steadied her and held up the weight that one ankle was supporting. Angel moved with Buffy and she pulled out the other nail. Wes and Gunn slid her freezing body onto the bloodied ground, standing back.

Angel lowered Buffy down and immediately knelt by Hope's side. Her face was still blank, but the redness was subsiding quickly. He took off his shirt and wrapped it around her waist, tying the sleeves in the front. It made half a skirt. Xander took off his shirt and handed it over. Angel did the same thing; this time he tied it under her.

"Hope?" he asked.

She didn't answer.

He picked her up and stood, looking at the others, "Let's get out of here."

They went to move and, the moment they did, everything was gone. All there was was whiteness—a misty and enveloping whiteness. They all looked around, trying to figure out where everything had gone—not that they missed the view.

"You think it should be that easy?" a demonic voice asked, "To take the Young One from Hell? Stupid vampire. What made you think I would let her go?" It asked, appearing in front of them, blood dripping from It's form.

"I'm taking her. Get over it."

It laughed dangerously, "Didn't He tell you the catch?"

Angel just eyed It.

"Nothing can be taken from Hell unless it is replaced. Unless someone replaces the rescued," It sneered, laughing again at Angel's defeated look.

Angel turned and gently handed Hope over to Gunn.

Buffy grabbed his arm, "You're not staying here."

Angel eyed her, "Wouldn't be the first time," he said coldly, turning his back on her and the others.

The First laughed.

Everything started to fade for the others, as if they were being forced back to earth.

"No!" Buffy screamed.

* * *

They were all in the Hyperion. Buffy ran at the closing portal, tears in her eyes. When it closed, she couldn't cry. Willow walked up to her, too stunned to feel emotion. Gunn stood there with Hope in his arms. Fred collapsed onto the floor underneath the counter ledge, crying.

The portal opened and Angel was thrown out of it, landing on Buffy and Willow.

"Angel!" Buffy nearly screamed, scooting out from under him and helping him up. He was in pain, some wounds evident on his shirtless figure. He remained slumped over, breathing heavily. From behind him came the Old One, still majestic and stoic.

Angel coughed out some blood, still trying to stand up straight.

"What happened?" Buffy looked to the Old One.

"He passed the test," He said nonchalantly.

"What test?" Wesley came out from behind the counter after hanging up the phone.

"Hope was willing to give her life for all of you. And Angel was willing to give his for Hope's survival. He passed the test," he said, eyeing Angel in admiration.

"Next time…can you give us some warning?" Angel asked, his voice raspy.

The Old One smiled, "Of course," He allowed, vanishing in a puff of golden mist.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Angel just sat there, looking at her. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't there. He wanted those beautiful eyes to blink and for her to come back to them all. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her, wake her from this horrible state. He wanted to be the prince. He wanted so much and so little was forthcoming.

Buffy walked in and handed him a cup of blood. He took it from her tentatively, not sure if he was really that hungry. She sat next to him, pulling up a chair and placing a hand on his shoulder. He knew she was eyeing him; he just kept his gaze on Hope.

"How're you holding up?" she asked quietly.

"I've had better days."

"Any change?"

He shook his head.

Buffy remained quiet for a moment, leaning her head on his shoulder. She tried to think of something heroic to say, to bring his spirits up. But she couldn't think of anything that would even begin to encompass the pain he was feeling. And, in some small way, she was feeling it, too. Knowing him so well as to know what he was thinking, to feel what he was feeling, had its perks and downfalls.

The downfall was getting sucked into the broody mode Angel seemed to have down to a tee, "Why don't you get some rest; I'll watch over her for a while," she offered.

"I don't want to leave her."

"I'll come get you if anything changes," she added.

He looked at her seriously, "Listen, I know you're trying to help…but I don't want you here," he said coldly, looking directly at her.

She took her head from his shoulder and remained quiet, unsure of what he was getting at.

"Angel…" she managed that much.

"I can't do this with you here, Buffy. I need you to leave."

"Why are you saying this?" she asked, her eyes misting over.

He looked down at the floor, "Because I still love you."

Some small wave of relief washed over Buffy; the crashing of it afterwards brought with it doubt and anxiety.

"I know I love you. I always will. And I can't get on with my…undeadness…if you're still around," he continued.

She eyed him, "Do you love Hope?"

He didn't meet her gaze.

"Does she know?"

"She always has. She knows more about me than I do," he scoffed, "She knows how much you mean to me."

Buffy waited a moment, "Do you still want me to leave?" she asked.

He shook his head, "I need you here. I don't think I could've handled this without you. I'm sorry," he admitted.

Buffy ran her fingers through his disheveled hair, "No worries. Besides, I wasn't going to leave anyways."

He chuckled for a moment at her comment, then sighed and steepled his fingers, leaned his elbows on his knees and eyed Hope. Buffy followed his gaze and smiled.

Angel looked at her from the corner of his eye, seeing her and knowing she was really there for him. She might've been leaning on his shoulder at the moment, but she was the one carrying them all. She was the one who kept him going.

He tilted his head and kissed her.

She kissed him back; for a moment, she was in high school again and the only thing she needed was his kiss. That was all. And none of it mattered; not Hope, not Spike, not Sunnydale…nothing. She was his girl again.

She pulled away from him gently, eyeing him, "You might have to answer for that when she wakes up," she looked to Hope briefly.

He looked at Hope fully and sighed, smiling wanly, "No. I don't think so. She knows where my heart is."

Buffy smiled, "Good. Then I won't have to hide my face in shame when I see her for the first time."

Angel cocked an eyebrow, "I didn't say that."

There was a gentle knock on the door. They both turned to see Willow; she was smiling wanly and trying not to appear out-of-place.

"Hey. How is she?" she asked, walking in.

Angel and Buffy subconsciously moved inches apart. Angel cleared his throat, "No change. What is everyone doing down there?" he asked. The others were all in the atrium of the hotel, entertaining themselves as they could.

The young witch shrugged, "Mostly nothing. I came up here to see if I could help."

"With Hope?" Angel asked.

"Yeah," Willow glanced at Buffy for a moment, "I have some experience with catatonia."

"What will you do?" Angel asked.

Willow pulled up a chair, "If I can get into her mind, I might be able to bring her out of it."

"She's five and a half million years old. That's a lot of mind to go through. Do you think you can handle that?" he asked.

Will shrugged, "Only one way to find out."

Buffy stood slowly, eyeing the two of them then Hope, "This is private. I'll be downstairs."

Angel watched her go then turned his attention back to Willow, "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, taking Hope's hand in his own.

"I think it would be better if you came with. She might be more responsive to you. If she's in catatonia, it's because there're issues she can't face. Bad issues. She might be able to resolve them quicker if you're there to help her."

* * *

Giles looked up to see Buffy come down the stairs tiredly. He placed his teacup down on the saucer, Wesley catching the action and following his gaze. They both stood, ready for any update that might be forthcoming.

"How is she?" Xander asked, his voice full of concern.

"No different. Still big with the blank stare-age. Willow's trying to help pull her out of it," she allowed.

"You think she can do it?" Fred asked sheepishly.

"If anyone can, I'll put my money on her," Gunn allowed, remembering clearly how powerful she was earlier in the year.


	15. The Beginning

**The Beginning**

Angel opened his eyes as per Willow's instructions. His face matched hers: complete confusion. There was nothing but open, wild plains ahead of them, surrounding them. A sweet breeze whipped past, bringing pollen and some flying insects. Mountains were in the distance but somehow seemed too perfect for real life.

"And, by your face, I'm guessing you don't know where this is?" Willow asked.

Angel shook his head, "If this is her mind, why would she be here?"

Will shrugged, "Maybe this is where she feels secure."

A bolt of lightening hit the ground, searing the billowy grasses. Angel and Willow flinched, covering their eyes as the bolt retreated. When they dared to open them again, they saw Hope, standing from the ground.

The lightening had brought her here.

She stood fully, naked and younger than Angel remembered her. Her hair was short and cropped close to her head. Her bare figure was muscular and immaculate. She scanned the horizon and seemed to take in Willow and Angel. Without embarrassment, she snapped her fingers and a militaristic outfit wrapped itself around her.

"Hope?" Angel asked.

She approached them, "Human…and a vampire."

"Do you know who we are?" Angel asked.

"I know Angelus. But you are not him. You keep a soul," she observed.

"Listen, Hope, I know you might—" Willow started.

"My name is not Hope," Hope said strongly.

Angel and Willow shared a glance, "Then what is your name?" Willow asked.

She eyed them for a moment, "I wish not to discuss it."

With that, she started to walk away.

Angel and Willow caught up to her, following her through the grasses and the one patch of singed ground where she'd been dropped off. She walked quickly, her strides precise and steady. Angel knew that this wasn't the Hope he knew. This was a Hope that had battled Angelus and lost. And, if he knew her story, this was five and a half million years in the past.

* * *

Willow gasped as she caught sight of the ground…the landscape. Where the pristine field had been stood a devoured city. Flames were high and the sky was blood red with black clouds that seemed to rain ash. Lightening flashed again off in the distance. But Hope was still in front of them. Only now she was in rags and bloodied, beaten. Angel walked up to her, placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling pain in her mind.

"Hope?" he asked.

"I told you that's not my name," she said.

He caught a glimpse of her face. It was covered in soot; lines from her tears led down her cheeks and onto her chest, dragging the ashes with them. Blood drained from her ears and onto her dirtied rags.

Angel knew where they were, "This is what you lived through…isn't it? The First won. Angelus won," he allowed.

"I thought I could protect them," Hope said, eyeing a broken apartment in the distance.

"Protect who?" Willow asked, stepping around charred bodies to get close to Hope.

"My mother. My protector"

"Was she in there?" Angel asked.

Hope just nodded, then turned and walked away towards what would've been the main street of the town.

"Where is this?" Willow asked, catching up with her.

"New York City."

"Oh, God," she sighed, knowing this was probably only the beginning.

"Ho—whatever your name is, you need to come back. You know who we are and you need to come back," Angel stated.

She stopped walking, eyeing him with a sardonic smile, "Come back? To the Hyperion? It is destroyed."

"Not in our reality," Willow added.

Hope harrumphed, "You think this _isn't_ reality?"

Angel's brow furrowed, "What year is it?" he asked.

"2024."

Willow looked to Hope then at Angel, "What?" she asked him.

"Hope's mind can make things happen…materialize them. If we're in her mind…" he trailed off.

"We're not in our reality anymore. We're in the other one. The one she knew," Willow finished.

Hope walked away, rolling her eyes as she went. They caught up to her and Angel tried to get in front of her, grabbing her by the shoulders to stop her, "You're not stuck here, Hope. You can come back to our reality!" he assured her.

She shoved him away, a tear in her eye, "My name is not Hope!" she screamed.

He just eyed her.

* * *

She was gone. The two of them spun around, trying to figure out where they were. It was bright and sanitary. Willow sighed, "We're in a hospital," she assumed, seeing orderlies walking around.

"The question is: which one?"

"Angel…" Willow said, staring at something.

He followed her gaze to see a single baby in the nursery. It was an infant girl, wrapped in pink with a little pink cap on.

"That must be Hope," Willow said, eyeing the infant.

She opened her eyes and seemed to see the two onlookers. Her tiny fist, balled up, reached out towards them.

Angel read her card and smiled slightly, "Her name was Karina Audrey Carlton."

"She must've taken the name of Hope at a later time."

A woman walked up next to them, a hospital robe on. She tapped the glass and eyed the infant girl. Angel recognized her.

"Jo?" he asked.

The woman, unable to hear or see him, just smiled and waved at the infant, a smile on her face.

"Who is that?" Willow asked.

"I saved her…when I came to Los Angeles. Her unborn child was being hunted. I had to fight for her…as her champion. Her daughter was supposed to be some great entity. It was Hope," he thought aloud.

* * *

Lightening flashed again, brightening the red sky. Hope was still in front of them. She was in rags and bloodied, beaten—again. Angel walked up to her, placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling pain in her mind. The scene was the same.

He paused, "Karina?" he asked, trying the name she might respond to.

She turned to face him, tears flowing from her eyes and onto her soiled face, "How do you know my real name? I never told you," she said nervously.

"Karina, you need to break away from this…it's only your mind. This happened but you defeated it," Angel told Hope.

Hope shook her head, looking at the chapel tower that lay askew, "This is real. It was all a dream. I thought I could save him…all of them."

"You did," Willow said strongly.

"This isn't real," Angel repeated.

Hope smiled sardonically, "It is. It has to be."

"Then how could we be here?" Angel asked her.

She laughed; it sounded so out of place as the flames roared in the background, "You're not. I know she's not," she eyed Willow, "because I saw her grave. And you…you're just wishful thinking. A figment," she allowed.

"My grave?" Willow asked sheepishly.

* * *

The cemetery was dark, covered in soot as well. Palm trees loomed in the distance, their skeletons nothing more than the fronds burnt to a crisp and the bark charred black. A red moon shone down on the land, coated in blood. Row upon row of headstones loomed across flat plains.

"Where are we?" Willow asked.

Hope eyed her sympathetically, "Don't you recognize it?"

"It's Sunnydale," Angel said, tasting the air.

"What happened?" Willow asked, nearly in tears.

"Angelus. He destroyed it…he destroyed all of you," she said, pointing down to a row of headstones.

Willow fell to her knees, eyeing the writing, "Why?" she looked up to Hope, wanting something more.

"There was no Angel to save you. I couldn't do anything. It happened before I was born," she admitted.

"You have to snap out of this, Hope," Angel bit his tongue once he realized he said the name he was used to.

"I am _not_ Hope. That life never happened!" she declared.

"It did! You are Hope!" Angel took her by the shoulders.

She tried to break away from his grip, "I can't be!"

"You are!"

* * *

Hope hung there, her hands and feet impaled by crude spikes into the wooden cross. Blood drained down, seeping into her agape mouth. Her hair hung down, away from her face, and was soaked in her blood, saliva, and tears. Angel held back the sorrow, knowing this was just another part of Hope's mind. He'd rescued her from the First's domain. They all had.

But it seemed so real.

"This can't be me," a lonely voice said from behind Willow and Angel.

They both turned to see Hope sitting against a rock outcropping, the blood on the ground soaking into her clothes.

"It happened in real life," Angel said.

"No. I wouldn't let that happen to myself. I'm too strong for that," she argued gently.

"You saved us, Hope."

"My name is Karina!" she yelled at Willow.

"No! You are Hope. We met outside a little bar on Twenty-second avenue. You were attacked by Bringers. It all happened. It wasn't just a good dream. You did save the world!" Angel raised his voice.

She clapped her hands over her ears, "I'm not listening to you! I'm not!"

Angel knelt down next to her, "You are Hope! You saved us all!" he yelled at her.

* * *

The huge field stretched out in front of Willow and Angel, the sun shining brightly yet not posing any threat to Angel. They watched Hope break off into a run, her clothes still bloodied from the hellish scene before.

Angel ran after her, Willow trying to keep up with the two demons.

He tackled her. She tried to escape, her face becoming demonized and her nails used to swipe at his face.

"You are not Karina!" he yelled at her, holding onto his bleeding cheek.

"I belong here!" she yelled back.

"You belong home! With your friends!" Willow added, standing a few feet back in case Hope should turn on her.

"Liar!"

"Why don't you want to believe it? What makes this world better than the real one?" Angel asked.

Tears flowed from Hope's eyes, "You're not him. I won't believe it!"

"Why? Why do you want to be here?" Angel asked, moving in closer to her.

She growled, her face threatening in full sunlight.

"You don't have to fight this, Hope. We're here for you," Willow promised.

"I can't be Hope!"

"Why?" Angel asked.

Hope started to walk away. Angel ran up behind her and turned her violently to face him, "Why can't you be Hope?" he asked, holding her tightly.

"Because I can't face it!" she cried out, squirming.

"Yes you can! I believe in you, Hope!"

"No!"

"Yes! You are Hope!" he yelled at her again.

She twisted violently and stood a stride apart from him, eyeing him with that demonic visage, "I won't do it again! I won't fail again! Not me!"

Angel eyed her angrily, sympathetically, "Everybody fails, Hope. Everybody's weak. Even you. But you have done so much good back home. And you know that it was real."

She stifled a sob, "How? How can I know? All I am is a demon. I can't be Hope. She's the human. She's the hero. I'm neither," she said.

Willow walked up next to Angel and fought back her own tears. To see Hope so distraught, so lost…it pained her.

"You have to come home, Hope," Angel begged, his own eyes teary.

"I won't be that creature! She was weak! She killed people!"

Angel pressed his lips together in repressed pain and sorrow, "That wasn't you. It was the First. You know that. You don't have to live with the guilt because it wasn't you!" he promised her.

"It wasn't me! I would never succumb to that! I'm better than that!" she yelled back.

Angel shook his head slightly, "No. You're not."

She eyed him in shock, "Excuse me?"

"You're human, Hope. You're not better than any of us. You just have more power. But when it comes down to it—"

She put her hands over her ears again, "Stop it!"

"—you're just like us. You have flaws and weaknesses. You made a mistake. And I forgive you," he finished.

Even with her ears covered, she heard him, "I don't need forgiveness."

"Everyone does, Hope. Even you," Willow said softly.

"And we forgive you. I need you, Hope," Angel said, searching for her eyes.

Her eyes were full of pain, fear and hope, "How? How can you?"

"I know it wasn't you."

Hope sobbed, her hands crossed over her chest insecurely, "Is that enough?"

Angel smiled wanly, "It is for me."

Hope fell, sitting down without cause, reason or strength.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Hope blinked her eyes. The ceiling above her was bland and real. She felt a hand against her own, the pressure telling her that she was, in fact, awake. And she was, despite her mind's wishes, in the real world; the world her mind remembered only a memory and no longer a prison.

* * *

Angel stared at her. She was huddled over her knees, sitting on the bench under the overhang. She hadn't really said anything. Hadn't asked questions or apologized. She just sat there, looking out on the garden. The moonlight was dim. It wasn't a full moon. But the reflection of the light still shone against the water in the fountain. Hope was as still as the sky. There was no breeze. Her elbows were braced on her knees. Her curly hair hung down, covering most of her face.

He walked out, closing the door softly. She ignored him. He cleared his throat. Still, she didn't say anything.

"Hope?"

She straightened a bit.

"Hey. I was wondering if you were hungry. You've haven't eaten anything since you came back."

She kept her gaze inward.

"You don't have to stay away from everyone, you know. You can come inside. You don't have to be alone."

He sighed, knowing he was talking to a wall. A hurt and confused wall who didn't really want to be here. Had they made a mistake bringing her back? He walked around to her front side and stood in front of her. She remained oblivious. She barely moved as he got down on his haunches to look up into her face.

"I need you here, Hope. We all do. And we're here to help. You don't have to deal with this alone."

Her eyes met his. He swallowed hard. There was so much in them. So much pain and shame. They couldn't help her yet. She didn't know how to help herself. He nodded.

"Okay. We'll be inside."

He put his hand on her knee for a moment. She didn't react. He nodded again and stood, leaving her there. Walking inside, the others looked up to him. He tried not to let it show. Fred walked up to him.

"How is she?"

"Quiet would be an understatement."

"No change, huh?"

He shook his head.

"Angel…" Wesley said, tilting his head towards the doors.

Angel followed the gaze and saw Michael standing next to Hope. He sat down next to her. She leaned into him. And he could hear her start crying. He watched them. Found that he wasn't jealous. Michael was who she needed. He understood it. He looked back to Wesley.

"Let's give her some privacy."

Wesley nodded. Angel didn't want to hear her cry when he couldn't be there for her. It was too loud for him to bear. Unable to help her, he let Michael do it.


	17. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Buffy walked into Angel's room. He was having lunch. Even though she'd seen him drink before, even though she'd helped wean Spike from human blood, the sight was still a little unsettling. He put the blood down and faced her. They stared at each other for a moment. Angel crossed his arms over his chest. Buffy walked closer.

"I think we're heading out."

"I was about to come down."

"Just thought I'd come up and say goodbye."

"Heading back to Europe?"

"Yeah. Probably head to London first."

"I appreciate you coming."

"It's what we do."

He leaned closer to her, "Buffy…"

"It was nice seeing you again."

He leaned back, "Same here. Try to keep in touch."

"You know it."

She started to walk away. He watched her for a moment. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted her to know how hard it was for him not to.

"Buffy?"

She turned, "Yeah."

"You still my girl?"

She smiled warmly, "Always."

He walked up next to her. She wrapped her hand around his elbow. He felt her warmth. They walked out of his room together, embraced.

* * *

Hope hugged Willow. It was odd, hugging her. She couldn't remember hugging ever being natural to her. As they separated, Buffy and Angel came down the stairs. They were close, but not touching. She smiled, seeing some sort of nervousness in Angel's eyes.

Angel shook Gile's hand, Xander's too. He and Willow hugged before he stood next to her. Hope could feel him. She'd always felt him before, but now that he'd drank from her, the connection was stronger. She wasn't really paying attention to what they were all talking about. She was too busy realizing just what had happened.

"Hope?"

"Huh?" she looked across to Buffy.

"You gonna take care of them when we leave?"

She smiled, "If they're not taking care of me."

They hugged, too. Again, unnaturally odd. But they hugged and Buffy's embrace was strong. They let go and Buffy turned to walk out the doors. The others followed. As they all turned away, Hope felt Angel's hand on her shoulder.

* * *

Angel threw down his towel, not worried about hanging it up. Although he'd been there when Hope woke up, it seemed like she hadn't. She was still distant, but not cold. He knew she would get better, but that it would take time. She'd been through so much. He was amazed she was hospitable towards anyone this soon after the incident.

There was a knock on his door.

He slipped on pajama pants and opened it to see Hope. He eyed her, "Can't sleep?" he asked, assuming she was having nightmares.

She eyed him, "I don't want to."

He cocked an eyebrow, "You…"

She walked in, closing the door behind her, "I never got to tell you why I was upset that morning. I never got to tell you what I was thinking."

"Okay."

"It was my first time. And what I felt that night wasn't anything like I'd felt before. But I gave into something. We both did. We gave into urges that we should've kept under control. I'm a god. I'm supposed to be in control. And I wasn't. So, as wonderful as it was, it still felt like I did something wrong."

"So what do we do?"

"I'm still not sure where I stand. But I know that I want to be with you. And after everything that happened, I'd understand if you wanted to forget it all."

"I saw you torture me and my friends."

She nodded, "I understand."

"I know it wasn't you. It was the First. That's not what's stopping me."

"Then what?"

He shook his head slightly, "I can't take advantage of you."

She smiled wanly, "You're not. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want you to have me. You should know that."

"And, if I don't want to?"

"Then we won't."

He smiled, "It was a hypothetical question," he assured her, closing in and wrapping his hands around her, locking his lips with his.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, there's another 'book' coming. The new title will be "Old Habits...". Thanks for all the favs and reviews on the series so far. Hope to see you at the next installment! And yes, that last line before my note is a part of the epilogue.**

Out of sight, out of mind.

* * *


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